PR4854 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





DDDD337l3^t5 



« 



42863 ^^ve o^ 



Library of Con«rre«e 

ivyio Cones Received 
SEP 4 1900 

SECOND COPY. 

OeUversd to 

ORDER DIVISION, 




Copyright, 1900, by W. B. Conkey Company. 



74159 



I have eaten your bread and salt, 
I have drunk your water and wine 

The deaths ye died I have watched beside. 
And the lives that ye led were mine. 

Was there aught that I did not share 

In vigil or toil or ease, 
One joy or woe that I did not know, 

Dear hearts across the seas? 

I have written the tale of our life 
For a sheltered people's mirth, 

In jesting guise but ye are wise, 

And ye know what the jest is worth. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

A-Ballad of Burial 41 

A Code of Morals 10 

A Legend of the Foreign Oflfice 15 

Army Headquar|;ers 13 

Delilah 20 

Departmental Ditties 3 

General Summary 5 

In Springtime 49 

La Nuit Blanche 35 

Municipal 30 

My Rival 38 

Pagett, M. P 43 

Pink Dominoes 26 

Possibilities 52 

Public Waste 18 

Study of an Elevation, in Indian Ink 9 

The Betrothed 53 

The Last Department 32 

The Lovers' Litany 40 

The Man Who Could Write 28 

The Mare's Nest 47 

The Overland Mail 50 

The Post That Fitted 7 

The Rupaiyat of Omar Kal'vin 45 

The Story of Uriah 17 

To the Unknown Goddess 33 

What Happened 23 

3 



4 CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

The Incarnation of Krishna Mulvaney 6i 

On Greenhow Hill q8 

Bimi 125 

Namgay Doola 134 

Moti Guj — Mutineer , 151 

The Mutiny of the Mavericks 162 

The Recrudescence of Imray 190 



GENERAL SUMMARY. 

We are very slightly changed 
From the semi-apes who ranged 
• India's prehistoric clay; 
Whoso drow the longest bow, 
Ran his brother down, you know, 
As we run men down to-day. 

**Dowb," tho first of all his race, 
Mot the Mammoth lace to face 

On the lake or in the cave, 
Stole tho steadiest canoe, 
Ate the quarry others slew. 

Died — and took the finest grave. 

When they scratched the reindeer bone, 
^ome one made the sketch his own. 

Filched it from the artist — then. 
Even in those early days, 
Won a simple Viceroy's praise 

Through the toil of other men. 

Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage 
Favoritism governed kissage, 
Even as it does in this age. 

Who shall doubt the secret hid 
Under Cheops' pyramid 
Was that the contractor did 

5 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Cheops out of several millions? 
Or that Joseph's sudden rise 
To Comptroller of Supplies 
Was a fraud of monstrous size 

On king Pharaoh's swart Civilians? 

Thus, the artless songs I sing 
Do not deal with anything 

New or never said before. 
As it was in the beginning, 
Is to-day official sinning, 

And shall be forevermore. 



THE POST THAT FITTED. 

Though tangled and twisted the'course of true love, 

This ditty explains 
No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve 

If the Lover has brains. 

Ere the steamer bore him Eastward, Sleary 

was engaged to marry 
An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he 

called "my little Carrie." 
Sleary's pay was very modest; Sleary was the 

other way. 
Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight 

paltry dibs a day? 

Long he pondered o'er the question in his 

scantly furnished quarters — 
Then proposed to Minnie Boffkin, eldest of 

Judge Boffkin 's daughters. 
Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was not a 

catch, 
But the Boffkins knew that Minnie mightn't 

make another match. 

So they recognized the business, and to feed 
and clothe the bride, 

Got him made a Something Something some- 
where on the Bombay side. 

Anyhow, the billet carried pay enough for him 
to marry — 

7 



8 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

As the artless Sleary put it:— ** Just the thing 
for me and Carrie." 

Did he, therefore, jilt Miss Boffkin — impulse 

of a baser mind? 
No! he started epileptic fits of an appalling 

kind. 
(Of his modus operandi only this much I could 

gather : — 
"Pears, shaving sticks will give you little taste 

and lots of lather. ' *) 

Frequently in public places his affliction used 

to smite 
Sleary with distressing vigor — always in the 

Boff kins' sight. 
Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly 

returned his ring 
Told him his *' unhappy weakness" stopped all 

thought of marrying. 

Sleary bore the information with a chastened 

holy joy,— 
Epileptic fits don't matter in Political employ, 
Wired three short words to Carrie — took his 

ticket, packed his kit — 
Bade farewell to Minnie Boffkin in one last 

long, lingering fit. 

Pour weeks later, Carrie Sleary read — and 

laughed until she wept — 
Mrs. Boff kins' warning letter on the ** wretched 

epilept. ' * 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 9 

Year by year, in pious patience, vengeful Mrs. 

Boffkins sits 
Waiting for the Sleary babies to develop 

Sleary's fits. 



STUDY OF AN ELEVATION IN INDIAN 

INK. 

This ditty is a string of lies. 

But — how the deuce did Gubbins rise? 

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Stands at the top of the tree ; 
And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led 
To the hoisting of Potiphar G. 

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is seven years junior to Me; 
Each bridge that he makes he either buckles 
or breaks, 

And his work is as rough as he. 

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is coarse as a chimpanzee ; 
And I can't understand why you gave him 
your hand. 

Lovely Mehitable Lee. 

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is dear to the Powers that Be ; 
For They bow and they smile in an affable 
style 
Which is seldom accorded to Me. 



10 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E. , 
Is certain as certain can be 
Of a highly paid post which is claimed by a 
host 

Of seniors — including Me. 

Careless and lazy is he, 
Greatly inferior to Me. 
What is the spell that you manage so well, 
Commonplace Potiphar G. ? 

Lovely Mehitable Lee, 
Let me inquire of thee, 
Should I have riz to what Potiphar is, 
Hadst thou been mated to Me? 



A CODE OF MORALS. 

Lest you should think this story true, 
I merely mention I 
Evolved it lately. 'Tis a most 
Unmitigated misstatement. 

Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep 

his house in order. 
And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above the 

Afghan border, 
To sit on a rock with a heliograph ; but ere he 

left he taught 
His wife the wording of the Code that sets the 

miles at naught. 

And love had made him very sage, as Nature 
made her fair; 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 11 

So Cupid and Apollo linked, per heliograph, 

the pair, 
At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills he flashed 

her counsel wise — 
At e'en, the dying sunset bore her husband's 

homilies. 

He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in 

• scarlet clad and gold, 
As much as 'gainst the blandishments paternal 

of the old ; 
But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the 

ditty hangs) 
That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-Gen- 

eral Bangs. 

'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, 

that tittupped on the way. 
When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously 

at play ; 
They thought of Border risings, and of stations 

sacked and burnt — 
So stopped to take the message down — and this 

is what they learnt: — 

"Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot" 

twice. The General swore. 
/'Was ever General Officer addressed as 'dear* 

before? 
'My love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gadzooks! 'My 

darling popsy-wop!' 
Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that 

mountain top?" 



12 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the gilded 

Staff were still, 
As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked 

that message from the hill ; 
For, clear as summer's lightning flare, the 

husband's warning ran: — 
"Don't dance or ride with General Bangs — a 

most immoral man." 

(At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed 
her counsel wise — 

But howsoever Love be blind, the world at 
large hath eyes.) 

With damnatory dot and dash he heliographed 
his wife 

Some interesting details of the General's pri- 
vate life. 

The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the shin- 
ing Staff was still, 

And red and ever redder grew the General's 
shaven gill. 

And this is what he said at last (his feelings 
matter not) : — 

"I think we've tapped a private line. Hi! 
Threes about there ! Trot ! ' ' 

All honor unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones 

thereafter know 
By word or act official who read off that helio. ; 
But the tale is on the Frontier, and from 

Michni to Mooltan 
They knew the worthy General as *'that most 

immoral man. ' ' 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 13 



ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 

Old is the song that I sing — 

Old as my unpaid bills — 
Old as the hicken that kitmutgars bring 

Men at dak-bungalows . . old as the Hills. 

Ahasuerus Jenkins of the "Operatic Own" 
Was dowered with a tenor voice of super- 

Santley tone. 
His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle 

queer; 
He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh ! he 

had an ear. 

He clubbed his wretched company a dozen 
times a day. 

He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way, 

His method of saluting was the joy of all be- 
holders. 

But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his 
shoulders. 

He took two months to Simla when the year 

was at the spring, 
And underneath the deodars eternally did sing. 
He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly at 
Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and fat. 

She controlled a humble husband, who in turn 

controlled a Dept. 
Where Cornelia Agrippina' s human singing 

birds were kept 



14 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

From April to October on a plump retaining 

fee^ 
Supplied, of course, per me?isem, by the Indian 

Treasury. 

Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins 
used to play; 

He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was 
false as they : 

So when the winds of April turned the bud- 
ding roses brown, 

Cornelia told her husband: — "Tom, you mustn't 
send him down." 

They haled him from his regiment, which 

didn't much regret him; 
They found for him an office stool, and on that 

stool they set him. 
To play with maps and catalogues three idle 

hours a day, 
And draw his plump retaining fee — which 

means his double pay. 

Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee cups 

are brought, 
Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand pianoforte ; 
And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath 

waxen great. 
And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the 

State. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 15 



A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE. 

This is the reason why Rustum Beg, 

Rajah of Kolazai, 
Drinketh the "simpkin" and brandy peg, 

Maketh the money to fly, 
Vexeth a Government tender and kind, 
Also— but this is a detail — blind. 

Rustum Beg of Kolazai — slightly backward 

native state — 
Lusted for a C. S. I. , — so began to sanitate. 
Built a Jail and Hospital — nearly built a City 

drain — 
Till his faithful subjects all thought their ruler 

was insane. 

Strange departures made he then — yea. Depart- 
ments stranger still, 

Half a dozen Englishmen helped the Rajah 
with a will, 

Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of a 
future fine 

For the State of Kolazai, on a strictly Western 
line. 

Rajah Rustum held his peace; lowered octroi 

dues a half; 
Organized a State Police; purified the Civil 

Staff; 
Settled cess and tax afresh in a very liberal 

way; 
Cut temptations of the flesh — also cut the 

Bukhshi's pay; 



16 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Roused his Secretariat to a fine Mahratta fury, 
By a Hookum hinted at supervision of dasturi; 
Turned the State of Kolazai very nearly upside 

down ; 
When the end of May was nigh: waited his 

achievement crown. ^ ^ 

Then the Birthday Honors came. "Sad to state 

and sad to see, 
Stood against the Rajah's name notliing more 

than C. I. E. ! "^ 7 



Things were lively for a week in the State of 
Kolazai. 

Even now the people speak of that time regret- 
fully. 

How he disendowed the Jail — stopped at once 

the City drain; 
Turned to beauty fair and frail — got his senses 

back again; 
Doubled taxes, cesses, all ; cleared away each 

new-built thana; 
Turned the two-lakh Hospital into a superb 

Zenana : 
Heaped upon the Bukhshi Sahib wealth and 

honors manifold ; 
Clad himself in Eastern garb — squeezed his 

people as of old. 
Happy, happy Kolazai! Never more will Rus- 

tum Beg 
Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He prefers 

the *'simpkin" peg. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 17 



THE STORY OF URIAH. 

•'Now there were two men in one city ; the one rich 
and the other poor. ' ' 

Jack Barrett went to Quetta 

Because they told him to. 
He left his wife at Simla 

TDh three-fourths his monthly screw: 
Jack Barrett died at Quetta 

Ere the next month's pay he drew. 

Jack Barrett went to Quetta. 

He didn't understand 
The reason of his transfer 

From the pleasant mountain-land: 
The season was September, 

And it killed him out of hand. 

Jack Barrett went to Quetta, 

And there gave up the ghost, 
Attempting two men's duty 

In that very healthy post; 
And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him 

Five lively months at most. 

Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta . 

Enjoy profound repose ; 
But I shouldn't be astonished 

If now his spirit knows 
The reason of his transfer 

From the Himalayan snows. 

And, when the Last Great Bugle Call 
Adown the Hurnai throbs, 

2 Ditties 



18 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

When the last grim joke is entered 
In the big black Book of Jobs, 

And Quetta graveyards give again 
Their victims to the air, 

I shouldn't like to be the man 
Who sent Jack Barrett there. 



PUBLIC WASTE. 

Walpole talks of "a man and his price." 
List to a ditty queer — 

The sale of a Deputy- Acting- Vice- 
Resident-Engineer, 

Bought like a bullock, hoof and hide, 

By the Little Tin Gods on the Mountain Side. 

By the Laws of the Family Circle 'tis written 
in letters of brass 

That only a Colonel from Chatham can manage 
the Railways of State, 

Because of the gold on his breeks, and the sub- 
jects wherein he must pass ; 

Because in all matters that deal not with Rail- 
ways his knowledge is great. 

Now Exeter Battleby Tring had labored from 
boyhood to eld 

On the Lines of the East and the West, and 
eke of the North and South ; 

Many lines had he built and surveyed — impor- 
tant the posts which he held ; 

And the Lords of the Iron Horse were dumb 
when he opened his mouth. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 19 

Black as the raven his garb, and his heresies 

jettier still — 
Hinting that Railways required lifetimes of 

study and knowledge ; 
Never clanked sword by his side — 
Vauban he knew not, nor drill — 
Nor was his name on the list of the men who 
^ had passed through the ''College." 

Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried their 

little tin souls. 
Seeing he came not from Chatham, jingled no 

spurs at his heels, 
Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first on the 

Government rolls 
For the billet of "Railway Instructor to Little 

Tin Godson Wheels." 

Letters not seldom they wrote him, "having 

the honor to state," 
It would be better for all men if he were laid 

on the shelf: 
Much would accrue to his bank book, and he 

consented to wait 
Until the Little Tin Gods built him a berth for 

himself. 

*'Special, well paid, and exempt from the Law 

of the Fifty and Five, 
Even to Ninety and Nine" — these were the 

terms of the pact : 
Thus did the Little Tin Gods (long may Their 

Highnesses thrive!) 
Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping their 

Circle intact ; 



20 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Appointing a Colonel from Chatham who 

managed the Bhamo State Line, 
(The which was one mile and one furlong — a 

guaranteed twenty-inch gauge). 
So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his claims 

to resign, 
And died, on four thousand a month, in the 

ninetieth year of his age. 



DELILAH. 

We have another Viceroy now, those days are dead and 

done, 
Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gunne. 

Delilah Aberyswith was a lady — not too 

young — 
With a perfect taste in dresses, and a badly 

bitted tongue. 
With a thirst for information, and a greater 

thirst for praise, 
And a little house in Simla, in the Prehistoric 

Days. 

By reason of her marriage to a gentleman in 

power, 
Delilah was acquainted with the gossip of the 

hour; 
And many little secrets, of a half-official kind, 
Were whispered to Delilah, and she bore them 

all in mind. 

She patronized extensively a man, Ulysses 

Gunne, 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 21 

Whose mode of earning money was a low and 
shameful one. 

He wrote for divers papers, which, as every- 
body knows, 

Is worse than serving in a shop or scaring off 
the crows. 

He praised her "queenly beauty" first; and, 
later on, he hinted 

At the "vastness of her intellect" with compli- 
ments unstinted. 

He went with her a-riding, and his love for her 
was such 

That he lent her all his horses, and — she galled 
them very much. 

One day, They brewed a secret of a fine fin- 
ancial sort; 

It related to Appointments, to a Man and a 
Report. 

'Twas almost worth the keeping (only seven 
people knew it), 

And Gunne rose up to seek the truth and 
patiently ensue it. 

It was a Viceroy's Secret, but — perhaps the 
wine was red — 

Perhaps an aged Councilor had lost his aged 
head — 

Perhaps Delilah's eyes were bright — Delilah's 
whispers sweet — 

The Aged Member told her what 'twere trea- 
son to repeat. 



22 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of love 
and flowers; 

Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for sev- 
eral hours; 

Ulysses went a-waltzing, and Delilah helped 
him dance — 

Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for his 
chance. 

The summer sun was setting, and the summer 

air was still, 
The couple went a-walking in the shade of 

Summer Hill, 
The wasteful sunset faded out in turkis-green 

and gold, 
Ulysses pleaded softly and . . . that bad 

Delilah told! 

Next morn a startled Empire learnt the all- 
important news; 

Next week the Aged Councilor was shaking 
in his shoes; 

Next month I met Delilah, and she did not 
show the least 

Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a 
"beast." 



We have another Viceroy now, those days are 

dead and done, 
Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean Ulysses 

Gunne! 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 23 



WHAT HAPPENED. 

Hurree Chtinder Mookerjee, pride of Bow 

Bazar, 
Owner of a native press, "Barrishter-at-Lar," 
Waited on the Government with a claim to 

wear 
Sabres by the bucketful, riHes by the pair. 

Then the Indian Government winked a wicked 

wink, 
Said to Chunder Mookerjee: "Stick to pen 

and ink, 
They are safer implements ; but, if you insist, 
We will let you carry arms wheresoe'er you 

list." 

Hurree Chunder Mookerjee sought the gun- 
smith and 

Bought the tuber of Lancaster, Ballard, Dean 
and Bland, 

Bought a shiny bowie-knife, bought a town- 
made sword, 

Jingled like a carriage horse when he went 
abroad. 

But the Indian Government, always keen to 

please, 
Also gave permission to horrid men like these — 
Yar Mahommed Yusufzai, down to kill of 

steal, 
Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the Bhil. 



24 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh the 

Sikh, 
Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq Rafiq — 
He was a Wahabi; last, little Boh Hla-oo 
Took advantage of the act — took a Snider too. 

They were unenlightened men, Ballard knew 

them not, 
They procured their swords and guns chiefly on 

the spot. 
And the lore of centuries, plus a hundred 

fights. 
Made them slow to disregard one another's 

rights. 

With a unanimity dear to patriot hearts 

All those hairy gentlemen out of foreign parts 

Said: **The good old days are back — let us go 

to war ! ' ' 
Swaggered down the Grand Trunk Road, into 

Bow Bazar. 

Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat found a hide-bound 

flail, 
Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer oiled his Tonk 

jezail, 
Yar Mahommed Yusufzai spat and grinned 

with glee 
As he ground the butcher-knife of the Khy- 

beree. 

Jowar Singh the Sikh procured sabre, quoit, 

and mace, 
Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took the dagger from its 

place, 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 25 

While amid the jungle-grass danced and 

grinned and jabbered 
Little Boh Hla-oo and cleared the dahblade 

from the scabbard. 

What became of Mookerjee? Soothly, who can 

say? 
Yar Mahommed only grins in a nasty way, 
Jowar Singh is reticent, Chimbu Singh is mute. 
But the belts of them all simply bulge with 

loot. 

What became of Ballard's guns? Afghans black 

and grubby 
Sell them for their silver weight to the men of 

Pubbi; 
And the shiny bowie-knife and the town-made 

sword are 
Hanging in a Marri camp just across the 

Border. 

What became of Mookerjee? Ask Mahommed 

Yar 
Prodding Siva's sacred bull down the Bow 

Bazar. 
Speak to placid Nubbee Baksh — question land 

and sea — 
Ask the Indian Congressmen — only don't ask 

me! 



26 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



PINK DOMINOES. 

"They are fools who kiss and tell," 
Wisely has the poet sung. 
Man may hold all sorts of posts 
If he'll only hold his tongue. 

Jenny and Me were engaged, you see, 
One of the eve of the Fancy Ball; 

So a kiss or two was nothing to you 
Or any one else at all. 

Jenny would go in a domino — 

Pretty and pink but warm ; 
While I attended, clad in a splendid 

Austrian uniform. 

Now we had arranged, through notes ex- 
changed 

Early that afternoon, 
At Number Four to waltz no more, 

But to sit in the dusk and spoon. 

(I wish you to see that Jenny and Me 
Had barely exchanged our troth ; 

So a kiss or two was strictly due 
By, from, and between us both.) 

When Three was over, an eager lover, 

I fled to the gloom outside ; 
And a Domino came out also 

Whom I took for my future bride. 

That is to say, in a casual way, 
I slipped my arm around her; 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 27 

With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you), 
And ready to kiss I found her. 

She turned her head and the name she said 

Was certainly not my own ; 
But ere I could speak, with a smothered 
shriek 

She fled and left me alone. 

Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame 

She'd doffed her domino; 
And I had embraced an alien waist — 

But I did not tell her so. 

Next morn I knew that there were two 

Dominoes pink, and one 
Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse, 

Our big political gun. 

Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold. 
And her eye was a blue cerulean ; 

And the name she said when she turned her 
head 
Was not in the least like ''Julian. " 

Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice 

Forbade us twain to marry, 
That old Sir J., in the kindest way. 

Made me his Secretarry? 



28 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 

Shun — shun the Bowl ! That fatal, facile drink 

Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills in't: 

Bribe, murder, marry, but steer clear of Ink 
Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in't. 

There may be silver in the "blue-black" — all 

I know of is the iron and the gall. 

Boanerges Blitzen, servant of the Queen, 
Is a dismal failure — is a Might-have-been. 
In a luckless moment he discovered men 
Rise to high position through a ready pen. 

Boanerges Blitzen argued, therefore: "I 
With the selfsame weapon can attain as high." 
Only he did not possess, when he made the 

trial, 
Wicked wit of C-lv-n, irony of L 1. 

(Men who spar with Government, need to back 

their blows, 
Something more than ordinary journalistic 

prose.) 

Never young Civilian's prospects were so 

bright. 
Till an Indian paper found that he could write: 
Never young Civilian's prospects were so dark, 
When the wretched Blitzen wrote to make his 

mark. 

Certainly he scored it, bold and black and 
firm. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 29 

In that Indian paper — made his seniors squirm, 
Quoted office scandals, wrote the tactless truth — 
Was there ever known a more misguided youth? 

When the rag he wrote for, praised his plucky 

game, 
Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was Fame: 
Wtien the men he wrote of, shook their heads 

and swore, 
Boanerges Blitzen only wrote the more. 

Posed as Young Ithuriel, resolute and grim, 
Till he found promotion didn't come to him; 
Till he found that reprimands weekly were 

his lot, 
And his many Districts curiously hot. 

Till he found his furlough strangely hard to 

win, 
Boanerges Blitzen didn't care a pin: 
Then it seemed to dawn on him something 

wasn't right — 
Boanerges Blitzen put it down to '* spite. " 

Languished in a District desolate and dry ; 
Watched the Local Government yearly pass 

him by; 
Wondered where the hitch was ; called it most 

unfair. 

That was seven years ago — and he still is there. 



30 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



MUNICIPAL. 

"Why Is my District death-rate low?" 

Said Blinks of Hezebad. 
"Wells, drains, and sewage-outfalls are 

My own peculiar fad. 
I learned a lesson once. It ran 
Thus, ' ' quote that most veracious man : — 

It was an August evening, and, in snowy gar- 
ments clad, 

I paid a round of visits in the lines of Hezebad ; 

When, presently, my Waler saw, and did not 
like at all, 

A Commissariat elephant careering down the 
Mall. 

I couldn't see the driver, and across my mind 

it rushed 
That the Commissariat elephant has suddenly 

gone musth. 
I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't well 

get down, 
So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for 

the town. 

The buggy was a new one, and, praise Dykes, 
it stood the strain. 

Till the Waler jumped a bullock just above the 
City Drain; 

And the next that I remember was a hurricane 
of squeals. 

And the creature making toothpicks of my five- 
foot patent wheels. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 31 

He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, dis- 
traught with fear, 

To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while he 
snorted in my ear — 

Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, and, 
in darkness and despair, 

Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my terror- 
stiffened hair. 

Heard it trumpet on my shoulder — tried to 
crawl a little higher — 

Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall blocked, 
some eight feet up, with mire; 

And, for twenty reeking minutes. Sir, my very 
marrow froze, 

While the trunk was feeling blindly for a pur- 
chase on my toes! 

It missed me by a fraction, but my hair was 

turning gray 
Before they called the drivers up and dragged 

the brute away. 
Then I sought the City Elders, and my words 

were very plain. 
They flushed that four-foot drain-head, and — it 

never choked again. 

You may hold with surface-drainage, and the 

sun-for-garbage cure. 
Till you've been a periwinkle shrinking coyly 

up a sewer. 
I believe in well-flushed culverts . . . 

This is why the death-rate's small; 
And, if you don't believe me, get shikarred 

yourself. That's all. 



32 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



THE LAST DEPARTMENT. 

Twelve hundred million men are spread 

About this Earth, and I and You" 
"Wonder, when You and I aie dead, 

What will those luckless millions do. 

*'None whole or clean," we cry, "or free from 

stain 
Of favor. ' ' Wait awhile, till we attain 

The Last Department, where nor fraud nor 

fools, 
Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again. 

Fear, Favor, or Affection — what are these 
To the grim Head who claims our services? 

I never knew a wife or interest yet 
Delay that pukka step, miscalled "decease;" 

When leave, long over-due, none can deny; 
When idleness of all Eternity 

Becomes our furlough, and the marigold 
Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury. 

Transferred to the Eternal Settlement 
Each in his strait, wood-scantled office pent. 

No longer Brown reverses Smith's appeals, 
Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent. 

And One, long since a pillar of the Court, 
As mud between the beams thereof is wrought ; 
And One who wrote on phosphates for the 
crops 
Is subject-matter of his own Report. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 33 

(These be the glorious ends whereto we pass — ' 
Let Him who Is, go call on Him who Was ; 

And He shall see the mallie steals the slab 
For currie-grinder, and for goats the grass.) 

A breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight, 
A draught of water, or a horse's fright — 

The droning of the fat Sheristadar 
Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night. 

For you or Me. Do those who live decline 
The step that offers, or their work resign? 
Trust me, To-day's Most Indispensables, 
Five hundred men can take your place or mine. 



TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 

Will you conquer my heart with your beauty ; 

my soul going out from afar? 
Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty 

and cautious shikar? 

Have I met you and passed you already, un- 
knowing, unthinking, and blind? 

Shall I meet you next session at Simla, O 
sweetest and best of your kind? 

Does the P. and O. bear you to me-ward, or, 
clad in short frocks in the West, 

Are you growing the charms that shall capture 
and torture the heart in my breast? 

8 Ditties 



34 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Will you Stay in the Plains till September — my 

passion as warm as the day? 
Will you bring me to book on the Mountains, 

or where the thermantidotes play? 

When the light of your eyes shall make pallid 
the mean lesser lights I pursue, 

And the charm of your presence shall lure me 
from love of the gay "thirteen-two;" 

When the peg and the pigskin shall please not ; 
when I buy me Calcutta-built clothes ; 

When I quit the Delight of Wild Asses; for- 
swearing the swearing of oaths; 

As a deer to the hand of the hunter when I 
turn 'mid the gibes of my friends ; 

When the days of my freedom are numbered, 
and the life of the bachelor ends. 

Ah Goddess! child, spinster, or widow — as of 
old on Mars Hill when they raised 

To the God that they knew not an altar — so I, 
a young Pagan, have praised 

The Goddess I know not nor worship ; yet if 
half that men tell me be true, 

You will come in the future, and therefore 
these verses are written to you. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 35 



LA NUIT BLANCHE. 

A much-discerning Public hold 
The Singer generally sings 
Of personal and private things. 

And prints and sells his past for gold. 

Whatever I may here disclaim, 
The very clever folk I sing to 
Will most indubitably cling to 

Their pet delusion, just the same. 

I had seen, as dawn was breaking 

And I staggered to my rest, 
Tari Devi softly shaking 

From the Cart Road to the crest. 
I had seen the spurs of Jakko 

Heave and quiver, swell and sink. 
Was it Earthquake or tobacco, 

Day of Doom or Night of Drink? 

In the full, fresh, fragrant morning 

I observed a camel crawl, 
Laws of gravitation scorning. 

On the ceiling and the wall ; 
Then I watched a fender walking. 

And I heard gray leeches sing, 
And a red-hot monkey talking 

Did not seem the proper thing. 

Then a Creature, skinned and crimson, 
Ran about the floor and cried. 

And they said I had the "jims" on. 
And they dosed me with bromide. 



36 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

And they locked me in my. bedroom — 
Me and one wee Blood Red Mouse — 

Though I said: "To give my head room 
You had best unroof the house." 

But my words were all unheeded, 

Though I told the grave M. D. 
That the treatment really needed 

Was a dip in open sea 
That was lapping just below me, 

Smooth as silver, white as snow, 
And it took three men to throw me 

When I found I could not go. 

Half the night I watched the heavens — 

Fizz like '8i champagne — 
Fly to sixes and to sevens. 

Wheel and thunder back again; 
And when all was peace and order 

Save one planet nailed askew, 
Much I wept because my warder 

Would not let me set it true. 

After frenzied hours of waiting, 

When the Earth and Skies were dumb, 
Pealed an awful voice dictating 

An interminable sum, 
Changing to a tangled story — 

"What she said you said I said" — 
Till the moon arose in glory, 

And I found her ... in my head ; 

Then a face came, blind and weeping. 
And it couldn't wipe its eyes, 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 37 

And it muttered I was keeping 

Back the moonlight from the skies; 

So I patted it for pity, 

But it whistled shrill with wrath, 

And a huge black Devil City 
Poured its peoples on my path. 

SoT fled with steps uncertain 

On a thousand-year long race, 
But the bellying of the curtain 

Kept me always in one place; 
While the tumult rose and maddened 

To the roar of Earth on fire, 
Ere it ebbed and sank and saddened 

To a whisper tense as wire. 

In intolerable stillness 

Rose one little, little star. 
And it chuckled at my illness, 

And it mocked me from afar; 
And its brethern came and eyed me. 

Called the Universe to aid ; 
Till I lay, with naught to hide me, 

'Neath the Scorn of All Things Made. 

Dun and saffron, robed and splendid, 

Broke the solemn, pitying Day, 
And I knew my pains were ended. 

And I turned and tried to pray ; 
But my speech was shattered wholly, 

And I wept as children weep, 
Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly 

Brought to burning eyelids sleep. 



38 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



MY RIVAL. 

I go to concert, party, ball — 

What profit is in these? 
I sit alone against the wall 

And strive to look at ease. 
The incense that is mine by right 

They burn before Her shrine ; 
And that's because I'm seventeen 

And She is forty-nine. 

I cannot check my girlish blush, 

My color comes and goes; 
I redden to my finger-tips, 

And sometimes to my nose. 
But She is white where white should be, 

And red where red should shine. 
The blush that flies at seventeen 

Is fixed at forty-nine. 

I wish I had Her constant cheek: 

I wish that I could sing 
All sorts of funny little songs. 

Not quite the proper thing. 
I'm very gauche and very shy, 

Her jokes aren't in my line; 
And, worst of all, I'm seventeen 

While She is forty-nine. 

The young men come, the young men go, 
Each pink and white and neat, 

She's older than their mothers, but 
They grovel at Her feet. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 39 

They walk beside Her Wickshaw wheels — 

None ever walk by mine ; 
And that's because I'm seventeen 

And She is forty-nine. 

She rides with half a dozen men, 

(She calls them "boys" and "mashers") 
I ttot along the Mall alone ; 

My prettiest frocks and sashes 
Don't help to fill my programme-card, 

And vainly I repine 
From ten to two A. M. 

Ah me! Would I were forty-nine! 

She calls me "darling," "pet," and "dear," 

And "sweet retiring maid." 
I'm always at the back, I know, 

She puts me in the shade. 
She introduces me to men, 

"Cast" lovers, I opine. 
For sixty takes to seventeen. 

Nineteen to forty-nine. 

But even She must older grow 

And end Her dancing days, 
She can't go on forever so 

At concerts, balls, and plays. 
One ray of priceless hope I see 

Before my footsteps shine : 
Just think, that She'll be eighty-one 

When I am forty-nine. 



40 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



THE LOVERS' LITANY. 

Eyes of gray — a sodden quay, 
Driving rain and falling tears, 
As the steamer wears to sea 
In a parting storm of cheers. 

Sing, for Faith and Hope are high- 
None so true as you and I — 
Sing the Lovers* Litany: 
*'Love like ours can never die!" 

Eyes of black — a throbbing keel, 

Milky foam to left and right ; 

Whispered converse near the wheel 

In the brilliant tropic night. 

Cross that rules the Southern Sky! 
Stars that sweep and wheel and fly 
Hear the Lovers' Litany: — 
' ' Love like ours can never die ! ' * 

Eyes of brown — a dusty plain 
Split and parched with heat of June, 
Flying hoof and tightened rein, 
Hearts that beat the old, old tune. 
Side by side the horses fly. 
Frame we now the old reply 
Of the Lovers' Litany: — 
**Love like ours can never die!" 

Eyes of blue — the Simla Hills 
Silvered with the moonlight hoar; 
Pleading of the waltz that thrills, 
Dies and echoes round Benmore. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 41 

* Mabel," "Officers," '•Good-by," 
Glamor, wine, and witchery — 
On my soul's sincerity, 
**Love like ours can never die!" 

Maidens, of your charity, 

Pity my most luckless state. 

Four times Cupid's debtor I— 

Bankrupt in quadruplicate. 
Yet, despite this evil case. 
And a maiden showed me grace, 
Four-and-forty times would I 
Sing" the Lovers' Litany : — 
**Love like ours can never die!" 



A BALLAD OF BURIAL. 
("Saint Praxed's ever was the Church for Peace.") 

If down here I chance to die, 

Solemnly I beg you take 
All that is left of *' I" 

To the Hills for old sake's sake. 
Pack me very thoroughly 

In the ice that used to slake 
Pegs I drank when I was dry — 

This observe for old sake's sake. 

To the railway station hie, 

There a single ticket take 
For Umballa — goods train — I 

Shall not mind delay or shake. 
I shall rest contentedly 



42 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Spite of clamor coolies make; 
Thus in state and dignity 

Send me up for old sake's sake. 

Next the sleepy Babu wake, 

Book a Kalku van *'for four." 
Few, I think, will care to make 

Journeys with me any more 
As they used to do of yore. 

I shall need a "special " break — 
Thing I never took before — 

Get me one for old sake's sake. 

After that — arrangements make. 

No hotel will take me in, 
And a bullock's back would break 

Neath the teak and leaden skin. 
Tonga ropes are frail and thin, 

Or, did I a back seat take, 
In a tonga I might spin — 

Do your best for old sake's sake. 

After that — your work is done. 

Recollect a Padre must 
Mourn the dear departed one — 

Throw the ashes and the dust. 
Don't go down at once. I trust 

You will find excuse to "snake 
Three days' casual on the bust," 

Get your fun for old sake's sake. 

I could never stand the Plains. 

Think of blazing June and May, 
Think of those September rains 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 43 

Yearly till the Judgment Day! 
I should never rest in peace, 

I should sweat and lie awake. 
Rail me, then, on my decease, 

To the Hills for old sake's sake. 



PAGETT, M. P. 

The toad beneath the harrow knows 
Exactly where each tooth-point goes. 
The butterfly upon the road 
Preaches contentment to that toad. 

Pagett, M. P. , was a liar, and a fluent liar 

therewith, — 
He spoke of the heat of India as the "Asian 

Solar Myth;" 
Came on a four months* visit, to *' study the 

East," in November, 
And I got him to sign an agreement vowing 

to stay till September. 

March came in with the koil. Pagett was cool 

and gay, 
Called me a "bloated Brahmin," talked of my 

"princely pay." 
March went out with the roses. "Where is 

your heat?" said he. 
"Coming," said I to Pagett. "Skittles!" said 

Pagett, M. P. 

April began with the punkah, coolies, and 

prickly-heat, — 
Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sand flies found 

him a treat. 



44 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

He grew speckled and lumpy — hammered, I 

grieve to say, 
Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an illiberal 

way. 

May set in with a dust-storm, — Pagett went 
down with the sun. 

All the delights of the season tickled him one 
by one. 

Imprimis — ten days' "liver" — due to his drink- 
ing beer ; 

Later, a dose of fever — slight, but he called it 
severe. 

Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the Chota 

Bursat — 
Lowered his portly person — made him yearn 

to depart. 
He didn't call me a ''Brahmin," or "bloated," 

or "overpaid," 
But seemed to think it a wonder that any one 

stayed. 

July was a trifle unhealthy, — Pagett was ill 

with fear. 
Called it the "Cholera Morbus," hinted that 

life was dear. 
He babbled of "Eastern exile," and mentioned 

his home with tears ; 
But I hadn't seen my children for close upon 

seven years. 

We reached a hundred and twenty once in the 
Court at noon. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 45 

(I've mentioned Pagett was portly) Pagett 

went off in a swoon. 
That was an end to the business ; Pagett, the 

perjured, fled 
With a practical, working knowledge of "Solar 

Myths" in his head. 

And-I laughed as I drove from the station, but 

the mirth died out on my lips 
As I thought of the fools like Pagett who write 

of their "Eastern trips," 
And the sneers of the traveled idiots who 

duly misgovern the land, 
And I prayed to the Lord to deliver another 

one into my hand. 



THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KALVIN. 

[Allowing for the difference 'twixt prose and rhymed 
exaggeration, this ought to reproduce the sense of what 

Sir A told the nation some time ago, when the 

Government struck from our incomes two per cent. ] 

Now the New Year, reviving last Year's Debt, 
The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his Net ; 

So I with begging Dish and ready Tongue 
Assail all Men for all that I can get. 

Imports indeed are gone with all their Dues — 
Lo ! Salt a Lever that I dare not use. 

Nor may I ask the Tillers in Bengal — 
Surely my Kith and Kin will not refuse ! 



46 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Pay — and I promise, by the Dust of Spring, 
Retrenchment. If my promises can bring 
Comfort, Ye have Them now a thousand- 
fold— 
By Allah ! I will promise anything ! 

Indeed, indeed. Retrenchment oft before 
I swore — but did I mean it when I swore? 
And then, and then, We wandered to the 
Hills, 
And so the Little Less became Much More. 

Whether at Boileaugunge or Babylon, 

I know not how the wretched Thing is done, 

The items of Receipt grow surely small ; 
The Items of Expense mount one by one. 

I cannot help it. What have I to do 

With One and Five, or Four, or Three, or 

Two? 
Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as they 

please, 
Or Statemen call me foolish — Heed not you. 

Behold, I promise — Anything You Will. 
Behold, I greet you with an empty Till — 

Ah ! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity 
Seek. not the Reason of the Dearth, but fill. 

For if I sinned and fell, where lies the Gain 
Of knowledge? Would it ease you of your Pain 

To know the tangled Threads of Revenue, 
I ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein? 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 47 

*' Who hath not Prudence" — what was it I said, 

Of Her who paints Her Eyes and tires Her 

Head, 

And Gibes and mocks the People in the 

Street, 

And fawns upon them for Her thriftless Bread? 

Accursed is She of Eve's daughters — 

She Sath cast off Prudence, and Her End shall 

be 
Destruction . . . Brethren, of your Bounty 

grant 
Some portion of your daily Bread to Me. 



THE MARE'S NEST. 

Jane Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse 
Was good beyond all earthly need ; 

But, on the other hand, her spouse 
Was very, very bad indeed. 

He smoked cigars, called churches slow, 

And raced — but this she did not know. 

For Belial Machiavelli kept 

The little fact a secret, and. 
Though o'er his minor sins she wept, 

Jane Austen did not understand 
That Lilly — thirteen-two and bay — 
Absorbed one-half her husband's pay. 

She was so good, she made him worse ; 
(Some women are like this, I think;) 



48 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

He taught her parrot how to curse, 
Her Assam monkey how to drink. 
He vexed her righteous soul until 
She went up, and he went down hill. 

Then came the crisis, strange to say, 
Which turned a good wife to a better. 

A telegraphic peon, one day, 

Brought her — now, had it been a letter 

For Belial Machiavelli, I 

Know Jane would just have let it lie. 

But 'twas a telegram instead, 

Marked "urgent," and her duty plain 

To open it. Jane Austen read : — 
"Your Lilly's got a cough again. 

Can't understand why she is kept 

At your expense. ' ' Jane Austen wept. 

It was a misdirected wire. 

Her husband was at Shaitanpore. 
She spread her anger, hot as fire, 

Through six thin foreign sheets or more. 
Sent off that letter, wrote another 
To her solicitor — and mother. 

Then Belial Machiavelli saw 
Her error and, I trust, his own, 

Wired to the minion of the Law, 
And traveled wifeward — not alone. 

For Lilly — thirteen-two and bay — 

Came in a horse-box all the way. 

There was a scene — a weep or two — 
With many kisses. Austen Jane 




"Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was fame."— Page 29. 

Departmental Ditties. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 49 

Rode Lilly all the season through, 

And never opened wires again. 
She races now with Belial. This 

Is very sad, but so it is. 



IN SPRINGTIME. 

My garden blazes brightly with the rosebush 
and the peach, 
And the koil sings above it, in the siris by 
the well. 
From the creeper-covered trellis comes the 
squirrel's chattering speech, 
And the blue-jay screams and flutters where 
the cheery sat-bhai dwell. 
But the rose has lost its fragrance, and the 
koiVs note is strange ; 
I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of blos- 
som-burdened bough. 
Give me back the leafless woodlands where the 
winds of Springtime range — 
Give me back one day in England, for it's 
Spring in England now ! 

Through the pines the gusts are booming, o'er 
the brown fields blowing chill, 
From the furrow of the ploughshare streams 
the fragrance of the loam. 
And the hawk nests on the cliff-side and the 
jackdaw in the hill, 
And my heart is back in England mid the 
sights and sounds of Home. 

4 DiUies 



50 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

But the garland of the sacrifice this wealth of 
rose and peach is; 
Ah! koil, little kotl^ singing on the siris 
bough, 
In my ears the knell of exile your ceaseless 
bell-like speech is — 
Can you tell me aught of England or of 
Spring in England now? 



THE OVERLAND MAIL. 

(Foot-Service to the Hills.) 

In the name of the Empress of India, make 

way, 

O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam. 

The woods are astir at the close of the day — 

We exiles are waiting for letters from Home. 

Let the robber retreat — let the tiger turn 

tail — 
In the Name of the Empress, the Overland 
Mail! 

With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in, 
He turns to the foot-path that heads up the 

hill— 
The bags on his back and a cloth round his 

chin, 
And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post Office 

bill:— 
''Despatched on this date, as received by the 

rail, 
Per runner, two bags of the Overland Mail. " 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 51 

Is the torrent in spate? He must ford it or 
swim. 
Has the rain wrecked the road? He must 
climb by the cliff. 

Does the tempest cry "Halt?" What are tem- 
pests to him? 
The Service admits not a "but" or an "if." 

While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear 
without fail, 

In the Name of the Empress, the Overland 
Mail. 

From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir, 

From level to upland, from upland to crest, 
From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge 

to spur, 
Fly the soft-sandaled feet, strains the 

brawny brown chest. 
From rail to ravine — to the peak from the 

vale — 
Up, up through the night goes the Overland 

Mail. 

There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the 

road — 
A jingle of bells on the foot-path below — 
There's a scuffle above in the monkey's 

abode — 
The world is awake, and the clouds are 

aglow. 
For the great Sun himself must attend to the 

hail: — 
"In the name of the Empress, the Overland 

Mail!" 



62 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 



POSSIBILITIES. 

Ay, lay him 'neath the Simla pine — 
A fortnight fully to be missed, 
Behold, we lose our fourth at whist, 

A chair is vacant where we dine. 

His place forgets him ; other men 

Have bought his ponies, guns, and traps. 
His fortune is the Great Perhaps 

And that cool rest-house down the glen, 

Whence he shall hear, as spirits may. 
Our mundane revel on the height, 
Shall watch each flashing 'nckskaw-light 

Sweep on to dinner, dance, and play. 

Benmore shall woo him to the ball 
With lighted rooms and braying band, 
And he shall hear and understand 

*' Dream Faces" better than us all. 

Por, think you, as the vapors flee 
Across Sanjaolie after rain. 
His soul may climb the hill again 

To each old field of victory. 

Unseen, who women held so dear, 

The strong man's yearning to his kind 
Shall shake at most the window-blind, 

Or dull awhile the card-room's cheer. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 53 

In his own place of power unknown, 
His Light o' Love another's flame, 
His dearest pony galloped lame, 

And he an alien and alone. 

Yet may he meet with many a friend — 
Shrewd shadows, lingering long unseen 
Among us when **God save the Queen" 

Shows even "extras" have an end. 

And when we leave the heated room. 
And, when at four the lights expire. 
The crew shall gather round the fire 

And mock our laughter in the gloom. 

Talk as we talked, and they ere death — 
First wanly, dance in ghostly wise. 
With ghosts of tunes for melodies. 

And vanish at the morning's breath. 



THE BETROTHED. 

"You must choose between me and your cigar." 

Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout, 
For things are running crossways, and Maggie 
and I are out. 

We quarreled about Havanas — we fought o'er 

a good cheroot. 
And I know she is exacting, and she says I am 

a brute. 



54 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

Open the old cigar-box — let me consider a 

space ; 
In the soft blue veil of the vapor, musing on 

Maggie's face. 

Maggie is pretty to look at — Maggie's a loving 

lass, 
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the 

truest of loves must pass. 

There's peace in a Laranaga, there's calm in a 

Henry Clay, 
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and 

thrown away — 

Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe 

and brown — 
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' 

the talk o' the town! 

Maggie, my wife at fifty — gray and dour and 

old— 
With never another Maggie to purchase for 

love or gold ! 

And the light of Days that have Been, the 

dark of the Days that Are, 
And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the 

butt of a dead cigar — 

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to 

keep in your pocket — 
With never a new one to light tho' it's charred 

and black to the socket. 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 55 

Open the old cigar-box — let me consider a 

while — 
Here is a mild Manilla — there is a wifely smile. 

Which is the better portion — bondage bought 

with a ring, 
Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in a 

string? 

Counselors cunning and silent — comforters 

true and tried. 
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival 

bride. 

Thought in the early morning, solace in time 

of woes, 
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my 

eyelids close. 

This will the fifty give me, asking nought in 

return. 
With only a Suttee's passion — to do their duty 

and burn. 

This will the fifty give me. When they are 

spent and dead, 
Five times other fifties shall be my servants 

instead. 

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the 

Spanish Main, 
When they hear my harem is empty, will send 

me my brides again. 



66 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food 

for their mouth withal, 
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the 

showers fall. 

I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will 

I temper their hides, 
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who 

read of the tale of my brides. 

For Maggie has written a letter to give me my 

choice between 
The wee little whimpering Love and the great 

god Nick o' Teen. 

And I have been servant of Love for barely a 

twelvemonth clear, 
But I have been Priest of Partagas a matter of 

seven year; 

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked 

with the cheery light 
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and 

Pleasure and Work and Fight. 

And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie 

and I must prove, 
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o*- 

the-Wisp of Love. 

Will it see me safe through my journey, or 
leave me bogged in the mire? 

Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I fol- 
low the fitful fire? 



DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 57 

Open the old cigar-box — let me consider 

anew — 
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should 

abandon you? 

A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear 

the yoke; 
And* a woman is only a woman, but a good 
cigar is a Smoke. 

Light me another Cuba ; I hold to my first- 
sworn vows, 

If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no 
Maggie for spouse! 



THE INCARNATION 



OF 



KRISHNA MULVANEY 
AND OTHER STORIES 



59 



THE INCARNATION 

OF 

KRISHNA MULVANEY 



Once upon a time and very far from this 
land, lived three men who loved each other so 
greatly that neither man nor woman could 
come between them. They were in no sense 
refined, nor to be admitted to the outer door- 
mats of decent folk, because they happened to 
be private soldiers in her majesty's army; and 
private soldiers of that employ have small time 
for self-culture. Their duty is to keep them- 
selves and their accouterments specklessly 
clean, to refrain from getting drunk more 
often than is necessary, to obey their super- 
iors, and to pray for a war. All these things 
my friends accomplished, and of their own 
motion threw in some fighting-work for which 
the Arm Regulations did not call. Their fate 
sent them to serve in India, which is not a 
golden country, though poets have sung other- 
wise. There men die with great swiftness and 
those who live suffer many and curious things. 
I do not think that my friends concerned them- 
selves much with the social or political aspects 

61 



62 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

of the East. They attended a not unimportant 
war on the northern frontier, another one on 
our western boundary, and a third in Upper 
Burmah. Then their regiment sat still to 
recruit, and the boundless monotony of canton- 
ment life was their portion. They were 
drilled morning and evening on the same dusty 
parade ground. They wandered up and down 
the same stretch of dusty white road, attended 
the same church and the same grog-shop, and 
slept in the same lime-washed barn of a bar- 
rack for two long years. There was Mul- 
vaney, the father in the craft who had served 
with various regiments from Bermuda to 
Halifax, old in war, scarred, reckless, resource- 
ful, and in his pious hours an unequaled soldier. 
To him turned for help and comfort six and a 
half feet of slow moving, heavy-footed York- 
shiremen, born on the wolds, bred in the 
dales, and educated chiefly among the carriers* 
carts at the back of York railway-station. His 
name was Learoyd, and his chief virtue an 
unmitigated patience which helped him to win 
fights. How Ortheris, a fox-terrier of a Cock- 
ney, ever came to be one of the trio, is a mys- 
tery which even to-day I cannot explain. 
*' There was always three av us, " Mulvaney 
used to say. *'And by the grace av God, so 
long as our services lasts, three av us they'll 
always be. 'Tis betther so," They desired 
no companionship beyond their own, and evil 
it was for any man of the regiment who 
attempted dispute with them. Physical argu- 
ment was out of the question as regarded Mul- 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 63 

vaney and the Yorkshireman ; and assault on 
Ortheris meant a combined attack from these 
twain — a business which no five men were 
anxious to have on their hands. Therefore 
they flourished, sharing their drinks, their 
tobacco, and their money, good luck and evil, 
battle and the chances of death, life and the 
chances of happiness from Calicut in southern, 
to Pashawur in northern India. Through no 
merit of my own it was my good fortune to be 
in a measure admitted to their friendship — 
frankly by Mulvaney from the beginning, sul- 
lenly and with reluctance by Learoyd, and sus- 
piciously by Ortheris, who held to it that no 
man not in the army could fraternize with a 
red-coat. "Like to like," said he. "I'm a 
bloomin' sodger — he's a bloomin' civilian. 
'Taint natural— that's all." 

But that was not all. They thawed pro- 
gressively, and in the thawing told me more of 
their lives and adventures than I am likely to 
find room for here. 

Omitting all else, this tale begins with the la- 
mentable thirst that was at the beginning of 
First Causes. Never was such a thirst — Mul- 
vaney told me so. They kicked against their 
compulsory virtue, but the attempt was only 
successful in the case of Ortheris. He whose 
talents were many, went forth into the 
highways and stole a dog from a "civilian" 
— videlicet, some one, he knew not who, 
not in the army. Now that civilian was 
but newly connected by marriage with 
the colonel of the regiment, and outcry 



64 INCARNATION%F MULVANEY. 

was made from quarters last anticipated by 
Ortheris, and, in the end, he was forced, lest a 
worse thing should happen, to dispose at 
ridiculously unremunerative rates of as promis- 
ing a small terrier as ever graced one end of a 
leading string. The purchase-money was 
barely sufficient for one small outbreak which 
led him to the guard-room. He escaped, how- 
ever, with nothing worse than a severe repri- 
mand, and a few hours of punishment drill. 
Not for nothing had he acquired the reputation 
of being "the best soldier of his inches" 
in the regiment. Mulvaney had taught 
personal cleanliness and efficiency as the 
first articles of his companions* creed. '*A 
dhirty man," he was used to say, in the 
speech of his kind, **goes to clink for weakness 
in the knees, an* is coort-martialed for a pair 
av socks missin* ; but a clane man, such as is 
an ornament to his service — a man whose 
buttons are gold, whose coat is wax upon him, 
an* whose 'couterments are widout a speck — 
that man may, spakin' in reason, do fwhat he 
likes, an' dhrink from day to divil. That's the 
pride av bein* dacint. " 

We sat together, upon a day, in the shade of 
a ravine far from the barracks, where a water- 
course used to run in rainy weather. Behind 
us was the scrub jungle, in which jackals, 
peacocks, the gray wolves of the Northwestern 
Provinces, and occasionally a tiger estrayed 
from Central India, were supposed to dwell. 
In front lay the cantonment, glaring white 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 65 

under a glaring sun, and on either side led the 
broad road that led to Delhi. 

It was the scrub that suggested to my mind 
the wisdom of Mulvaney taking a day's leave 
and going upon a shooting tour. The peacock 
is a holy bird throughout India, and whoso 
slays one is in danger of being mobbed by the 
nearest villagers; but on the last occasion that 
Mulvaney had gone forth he had contrived 
without in the least offending local religious 
susceptibilities, to return with six beautiful 
peacock skins which he sold to profit. It seemed 
just possible then — 

"But fwhat manner av use is ut to me goin' 
widout a dhrink? The ground's powdher-dry 
underfoot, an' ut gets unto the throat fit to 
kill," wailed Mulvaney, looking at me 
reproachfully. **An' a peacock is not a bird 
you can catch the tail av onless ye run. Can 
a man run on wather — an' jungle-wather, too?" 

Ortheris had considered the question in all 
its bearings. He spoke, chewing his pipe-stem 
meditatively : 

" 'Go forth, return in glory, 
To Clusium's royal 'ome; 
And round these bloomin' temples 'ang 
The bloomin' shields o' Rome. ' 

You'd better go. You ain't to shoot yourself 
— not while there's a chanst of liquor. Me an' 
Learoyd '11 stay at 'ome an' keep shop — case o' 
anythin' turnin' up. But you go out with a 
gas-pipe gun an' ketch the little peacockses or 
somethin'. You kin get one day's leave 

5 Ditties 



66 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

easy as winkin'. Go along an' get it, and get 
peacockses or somethin'." 

"Jock," said Mulvaney, turning to Learoyd 
who was half asleep under the shadow of the 
bank. He roused slowly. 

*'Sitha, Mulvaney, go," said he. 

And Mulvaney went, cursing his allies with 
Irish fluency and barrack-room point. 

*'Take note," said he, when he had won his 
holiday and appeared dressed in his roughest 
clothes with the only other regimental fowl- 
ing-piece in his hand — "take note, Jock, an' you, 
Orth'ris,! am goin' in the face av my own will — 
all for to please you. I misdoubt anythin' will 
come avpermiscuous huntin' afther peacockses 
in a disolit Ian' ; an' I know that I will lie down 
an' die wid thirrst. Me catch peacockses for 
you, ye lazy scuts — an' be sacrificed by the 
peasanthry. ' ' 

He waved a huge paw and went away. 

At twilight, long before the appointed hour, 
he returned empty-handed, much begrimed 
with dirt. 

"Peacockses?" queried Ortheris, from the 
safe rest of a barrack-room table, whereon he 
was smoking crossed-legged, Learoyd fast 
asleep on a bench. 

"Jock," said Mulvaney, as he stirred up the 
sleeper. "Jock, can ye fight? Will ye fight?" 

Very slowly the meaning of the words com- 
municated itself to the half-roused man. He 
understood — and again — what might these 
things mean? Mulvaney was shaking him 
savagely. Meantime the men in the room 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 67 

howled with delight. There was war in the 
confederacy at last — war and the breaking of 
bonds. 

Barrack-room etiquette is stringent. On the 
direct challenge must follow the direct reply. 
This is more binding than the tie of tried 
friendship. Once again Mulvaney repeated 
the Gfuestion. Learoyd answered by the only 
means in his power and so swiftly that the 
Irishman had barely time to avoid the blow. 
The laughter around increased. Learoyd 
looked bewilderedly at his friend — himself as 
greatly bewildered. Ortheris dropped from 
the table. His world was falling. 

'*Come outside," said Mulvaney; and as the 
occupants of the barrack-room prepared joy- 
ously to follow, he turned and said furiously: — 
"There will be no fight this night — onless any 
v/an av you is wishful to assist. The man that 
does, follows on." 

No man moved. The three passed out into 
the moonlight, Learoyd fumbling with the 
buttons of his coat. The parade ground was 
deserted except for the scurrying jackals. 
Mulvaney's impetuous rush carried his com- 
panions far into the open ere Learoyd 
attempted to turn around and continue the 
discussion. 

"Be still, now. 'Twas my fault for beginnin' 
things in the middle av an end, Jock. I should 
ha' comminst wid an explanation; but Jock, 
dear, on your sowl, are ye fit, think you, for 
the finest fight that iver was — betther than 
fightin' me? Considher before ye answer." 



68 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

More than ever puzzled, Learoyd turned 
round two or three times, felt an arm, kicked 
tentatively, and answered: *'Ah'm fit." He 
was accustomed to fight blindly at the bidding 
of the superior mind. 

They sat them down, the men looking on 
from afar, and Mulvaney untangled himself in 
mighty words. 

"Followin' your fools* scheme, I wint out 
into the thrackless desert beyond the barricks. 
An' there I met a pious Hindoo dhriving a 
buUock-kyrat. I tuk ut for granted he would 
be delighted for to convoy me a piece, an' I 
jumped in — " 

"You long, lazy, black-haired swine," 
drawled Ortheris, who would have done the 
same thing under similiar circumstances. 

*' *Twas the height av policy. That na'gur 
man dhruv miles an* miles— as far as the new 
railway line they're buildin' now back of the 
Tavi River. ' 'Tis a kyart for dhirt only, ' says 
he now an' again timorously, to get nie out av 
ut. 'Dhirt I am,' sez I, *an' the dhryest that 
you iver kyarted. Drive on, rr, 3 son, and glory 
be wid you. ' At that I v/ent to slape, an' took 
no heed till he pulled up on the embankment 
av the line where the coolies were pilin' mud. 
There was a matther av two thousand coolies 
on that line — you remimbcr that. Prisintly a 
bell rang, an' they throops off to a big pay- 
shed. 'Where's the white man in charge?' sez 
I to my kyart-driver. 'In the shed,' sez he, 
'engaged on a riffle.* 'A fwhat?' sez I. 
'Riffle,' sez he. 'You take ticket. He takes 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 69 

money. You get nothin'.' *Oho!' sez I, 
'that's what the shuperior an' cultivated man 
calls a raffle, me misbeguided child av darkness 
an' sin. Lead on to that raffle, though fwhat 
the mischief 'tis doin' so far away from uts 
home — which is the charity-bazaar at Christ- 
mas, an' the colonel's wife grinnin' behind the 
tea-table — is more than I know.' Wid that I 
went to the shed an' found 'twas pay-day 
among the coolies. There wages was on a 
table forninst a big, fine, red buck av a man — 
sivun fut high, four fut wide, an' three fut 
thick, wid a fist on him like a corn-sack. He 
was payin' the coolies fair an' easy, but he 
wud ask each man if he wud raffle that month, 
an' each man sez, 'Yes, av course.' Thin he 
would deduct from their wages accordin*. 
Whin all was paid, he filled an ould cigar-box 
full of gun-wads an' scattered ut among the 
coolies. They did not take much joy av that 
performance, an' small wondher. A man close 
to me picks up a black gun-wad, an' sings out, 
*I have ut. ' 'Good may ut do you, ' sez I. The 
coolie went forward to this big, fine red man, 
who threv/ a cloth off of the most sumpshus, 
jooled, enameled, an' variously bediviled sedan- 
chair I iver saw." 

"Sedan-chair! Put your *ead in a bag. 
That was a palanquin. Don't yer know a 
palanquin when you see it?" said Ortheris 
with great scorn. 

"I chuse to call ut sedan-chair, an* chair ut 
shall be, little man," continued the Irishman. 
" 'Twas a most amazin' chair — all lined wid 



70 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

pink silk and fitted wid red silk curtains. 
'Here ut is,' sez the red man. 'Here ut 
is,' sez the coolie, an' he grinned weakly 
ways. 'Is ut any use to you?' sez the 
red man. 'No,' sez the coolie; 'I'd like to 
make a presint av ut to you. ' 'I am graciously 
pleased to accept that same,* sez the red man; 
an' at that all the coolies cried aloud fwhat was 
mint for cheerful notes, an' wint back to their 
diggin', lavin' me alone in the shed. The 
red man saw me, an' his face grew blue on his 
big, fat neck. 'Fwhat d'you want here?' sez 
he. 'Standin'-room an' no more,' sez I, 
'onless it may be fwhat ye niver had, an' 
that's manners, ye ruffian" for I was not goin' 
to have the service throd upon. 'Out of this,' 
sez he. 'I'm in charge av this section av con- 
struction.' 'I'm in charge av mesilf,' sez I, 
'an' it's like I will stay awhile. D'ye raffle 
much in these parts?' 'Fwhat's that to you?' 
sez he. 'Nothin',' sez I, 'but a great dale to 
you, for begad I'm thinkin' you get the full half 
av your revenue from that sedan-chair. Is ut 
always raffled so?' I sez, an' wid that I went 
to a coolie to ask questions. Bhoys, that 
man's name is Dearsley, an' he's been rafflin' 
that ould sedan-chair monthly this matter av 
nine months. Ivry coolie on the section takes 
a ticket — or he gives 'em the go— Wanst a 
month on pay-day. Ivry coolie that wins ut 
gives ut back to him, for 'tis too big to carry 
away, an' he'd sack the man that thried to sell 
ut. That Dearsley has been makin' the rowlin' 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 71 

wealth av Roshus by nefarious rafflin'. Two 
thousand coolies defrauded wanst a month!" 

"Dom t' coolies. Hast gotten t' cheer, 
man?" said Learoyd. 

*'Hould on. Havin' onearthed this amazin' 
an' stupenjus fraud committed by the man 
Dearsley, I hild a council av war; he thryin* 
all tlie time to sejuce me into a fight wid 
opprobrious language. That sedan-chair niver 
belonged by right to any foreman av coolies. 
*Tis a king's chair or a quane's. There's gold 
on ut an silk an* manner av trapesemints. 
Bhoys, 'tis not for me to countenance any sort 
av wrong-doin' — me bein' the ould man — but — 
any way he ha^ had ut nine months,*an' he 
dare not make throuble av ut was taken from 
him. Five miles away, or it may be-six " 

There was along pause, and the jackals howl- 
ed merrily. Learoyd bared one arm and con- 
templated it in the moonlight. Then he nodded 
partly to himself and partly to his friends. 
Ortheris wriggled with suppressed emotion. 

"I thought ye wud see the reasonableness av 
ut, " said Mulvaney. "I made bould to say 
as much to the man before. He was for a 
direct front attack — fut, horse, an' guns — an' 
all for nothin', seein' that I had no transport 
to convey the machine away. *I will not 
argue wid you, ' sez I, 'this day, but subse- 
quently. Mister Dearsley, me rafflin' jool, 
we'll talk ut out lengthways. 'Tis no good 
policy to swindle the naygur av his 
hard-earned emolumints, an' by prisint 
informashin, — 'twas the kyart man that tould 



72 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

me — 'ye've been perpethrating that same for 
nine months. But I'm a just man,' sez I, 'an' 
overlookin' the presumpshin that yondher 
settee wid the gilt top was not come by honest, * 
— at that he turned sky-green, so I knew things 
was more thrue than tellable— 'I'm willin' to 
compound the felony for this month's win- 
nin's.'" 

"Ah! Ho!" from Learoyd and Ortheris. 

"That man Dearsley's rushin' on his fate," 
continued Mulvaney, solemnly wagging his 
head. "All hell had no name bad enough for 
me that tide. Faith, he called me a robber! 
Me! that was savin' him from continuin' in his 
evil wa5:'s widout a remonstrince, an' to a man 
av conscience a remonstrince may change the 
chune av his life. "Tis not for me to argue,* 
sez I, 'f whatever ye are, Mister Dearsley, but 
by my hand I'll take away the temptation for 
you that lies in that sedan-chair.' 'You will 
have to fight me for ut,' sez he, 'for well I 
know you will never dare make report to any 
one.' 'Fight I will,' sez I, 'but not this day, 
for I'm rejuced for want av nourishment.' 
'Ye're an ould bould hand,' sez he, sizin' me 
up an' down; 'an a jool av a fight we will 
have. Eat now an' dhrink, an' go your way. ' 
Wid that he gave me some hump an' whisky, 
good whisky, an* we talked av this an' that the 
while. 

"It goes hard on me now,' sez I, wipin* 
my mouth, 'to confiscate that piece av 
furniture; but justice is justice.* 'Ye've not 
got ut yet,' sez he; 'there's the fight between.* 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 73 

'There is,' sez I, 'an' a good fight. Ye shall 
have the pick av the best quality in my regi- 
ment for the dinner you have given this day. * 
Then I came hot-foot for you two. Hould your 
tongue, the both. 'Tis this way. To-morrow 
we three will go there an' he shall have his 
pick betune me an' Jock. Jock's a dece vin' 
fighter, for he is all fat to the eyes, an' he 
moves slow. Now I'm all beef to the look, 
an I move quick. By my reckonin', the 
Dearsley man won't take me; so me an' 
Orth'ris '11 see fair play. Jock, I tell you, 
'twill be big fightin', — whipped, wid the cream 
above the jam. Afther the business 'twill take 
a good three av us — Jock '11 be very hurt — to 
take away that sedan-chair." 

"Palanquin." This from Ortheris. 

"Fwhatever ut is, we must have ut. 'Tis 
the only sellin' piece av property widin' reach 
that we can get so cheap. An' f what's a fight 
after all? He has robbed the naygur man dis- 
honust. We rob him honust. " 

"But wot'll we do with the bloomin' 
harticle when we've got it? Them palanquins 
are as big as 'ouses, an' uncommon 'ard to sell, 
as McCleary said when ye stole the sentry- 
box from the Curragh. " 

"Who's going to dot' fightin'?" said Lea- 
royd, and Ortheris subsided. The three 
returned to barracks without a word. Mul- 
vaney's last argument clinched the matter. 
This palanquin was property, vendible and to 
be attained in the least embarrassing fashion. 



74 INCARNATION OF MXJLVANEY. 

It would eventually become beer. Great was 
Mulvaney. 

Next afternoon a procession of three 
formed itself and disappeared into the scrub 
in the direction of the new railway line. Lea- 
royd alone was without care, or Mulvaney 
dived darkly into the future and little Ortheris 
feared the unknown. 

What befell at that interview in the lonely 
pay-shed by the side of the half-built embank- 
ment only a few hundred coolies know, and 
their tale is a confusing one, running thus: 

"We were at work. Three men in red coats 
came. They saw the sahib — Dearsley Sahib. 
They made oration, and noticeably the small 
man among the red-coats. Dearsley Sahib 
also made oration, and used many very strong 
words. Upon this talk they departed togethei? 
to an open space, and there the fat man in the 
red coat fought with Dearsley Sahib after the 
custom of white men — with his hands, mak- 
ing no noise, and never at all pulling Dearsley 
Sahib's hair. Such of us as were not afraid 
beheld these things for just so long a time as 
a man needs to cook the midday meal. The 
small man in the red coat had possessed him- 
self of Dearsley Sahib's watch. No, he did not 
steal that watch. He held it in his hands, and 
at certain season made outcry, and the twain 
ceased their combat, which was like the com- 
bat of young bulls in spring. Both men were 
soon all red, but Dearsley Sahib was much 
more red than the other. Seeing this, and 
fearing for his life — because we greatly loved 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 75 

him — some fifty of us made shift to rush upon 
the red coats. But a certain man — very black 
as to the hair, and in no way to be confused 
with the small man, or the fat man who fought 
— that man, we affirm, ran upon us, and of us 
he embraced some ten or fifty in both arms, 
and beat our heads together, so that our livers 
turned to water, and we ran away. It is not 
good to interfere in the fightings of white 
men. After that Dearsley Sahib fell and did 
not rise; these men jumped upon his stomach 
and despoiled him of all his money, and at- 
tempted to fire the pay-shed, and departed. Is 
it true that Dearsley Sahib makes no com- 
plaint of these latter things having been done? 
We were senseless with fear, and do not at 
all remember. There was no palanquin near 
the pay-shed. What do we know about pa- 
lanquins. Is is true that Dearsley Sahib does 
not return to this place, on account of sickness, 
for ten days? This is the fault of those bad 
men in the red coats, who should be severely 
punished; for Dearsley Sahib is both our 
father and mother, and we love him much. 
Yet if Dearsley Sahib does not return to this 
place at all, we will speak the truth. There 
was a palanquin, for the up-keep of which we 
were forced to pay nine tenths of our monthly 
wage. On such mulctings Dearsley Sahib 
allowed us to make obeisance to him before the 
palanquin. What could we do? We were 
poor men. He took a full half of our wages. 
Will the government repay us those moneys? 
Those three men in red coats bore the palan- 



76 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

quin upon, their shoulders and departed. All 
the money that Dearsley Sahib had taken 
from us was in the cushions of that palanquin. 
Therefore they stole it. Thousands of rupees 
were there — all our money. It was our bank 
box, to fill which we cheerfully contributed to 
Dearsley Sahib three-sevenths of our monthly 
wage. Why does the white man look upon us 
with the eye of disfavor? Before God, there 
was a palanquin, and now there is no palan- 
quin ; and if they send the police here to make 
inquisition, we can only say that there never 
has been any palanquin. Why should a palan- 
quin be near these works? We are poor men, 
and we know nothing. " 

Such is the simplest version of the simplest 
story connected with the descent upon Dears- 
ley. From the lips of the coolies I received it. 
Dearsley himself was in no condition to say 
anything, and Mulvaney preserved a massive 
silence, broken only by the occasional licking 
of the lips. He had seen a fight so gorgeous 
that even his power of' speech was taken from 
him. I respected that reserve until, three 
days after the affair, I discovered in a disused 
stable in my quarters a palanquin of unchast- 
ened splendor — evidently in past days the 
litter of a queen. The pole whereby it swung 
between the shoulders of the bearers was rich 
with the painted papier-mache of Cashmere. 
The shoulder-pads were of yellow silk. The 
panels of the litter itself were ablaze with the 
loves of all the gods and goddesses of the Hin- 
doo Pantheon — lacquer on cedar. The cedar 



i 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 77 

sliding doors were fitted with hasps of trans- 
lucent Jaipur enamel, and ran in grooves shod 
with silver. The cushions were of brocaded 
Delhi silk, and the curtains, which once hid 
any glimpse of the beauty of the king's palace, 
were stiff with gold. Closer investigation 
showed that the entire fabric was everywhere 
rubbed and discolored by time and wear; but 
even thus it was sufficiently gorgeous to 
deserve housing on the threshold of a royal 
zenana. I found no fault with it, except that 
it was in my stable. Then, trying to lift it by 
the silver-shod shoulder-pole, I laughed. The 
road from Dearsley's pay-shed to the canton- 
ment was a narrow and uneven one, and trav- 
ersed by three very inexperienced palanquin- 
bearers, one of whom was sorely battered 
about the head, must have been a path of 
torment. Still I did not quite recognize the 
right of the three musketeers to turn me into 
a "fence." 

"I'm askin' you to warehouse ut," said Mul- 
vaney, when he was brought to consider the 
question. "There's no steal in ut. Dearsley 
tould us we cud have ut if we fought. Jock 
fought — an' oh, sorr, when the throuble was 
at uts finest an' Jock was bleedin* like a stuck 
pig, an' little Orth'ris was shquealin' on one 
leg, chewing big bites out av Dearsley's watch, 
I would ha' given my place in the fight to have 
had you see wan round. He tuk Jock, as I sus- 
picioned he would, an' Jock was deceptive. 
Nine rounds they were even matched, an' at 
the tenth — About that palanquin now. 



78 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

There's not the least trouble in the world, or 
we \7ud not ha' brought ut here. You will 
ondherstand that the queen — God bless her! — 
does not reckon for a privit soldier to kape ele- 
phints an' palanquins an' sich in barricks. 
Afther we had dhragged ut down from Dears- 
ley's through that cruel scrub that n'r broke 
Orth'ris' heart, we set ut in the ravine for a 
night; an' a thief av a porcupine an' a civit-cat 
av a jackal roosted in ut. as well we knew in 
the mornin'. I put ut to you, sorr, is an 
elegant palanquin, fit for the princess, the 
natural abidin' -place av all the vermin in can- 
tonmints? We brought ut to you, afther dhark, 
and put ut in your shtable. Do not let your 
conscience prick. Think av the rejoicin' men 
in the payshed yonder — lookin' at Dearsley 
wid his head tied up in a towel — an' well 
knowin' that they can dhraw their pay ivery 
month widout stoppages for riffles. Indi- 
rectly, sorr, you have rescued from an onprin- 
cipled son av a night-hawk the peasantry av a 
numerous village. An' besides, will I let that 
sedan-chair rot on our hands? Not I. 'Tis 
not every day a piece av pure joolry comes 
into the market. There's not a king widin 
these forty miles" — he waved his hand round 
the dusty horizon — "not a king wud not be 
glad to buy it. Some day meself, whin I have 
leisure, I'll take ut up along the road an' dis- 
pose av ut. ' ' 

"How?" said I. 

"Get into ut, av course, an' keep wan eye 
open through the curtain. Whin I see a likely 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 79 

man of the native persuasion, I will descend 
blushin' from my canopy, and say: *Buy a 
palanquin, ye black scut?' I will have to hire 
four men to carry me first, though, and that's 
impossible till next pay-day." 

Curiously enough, Learoyd, who had fought 
for the prize, and in the winning secured the 
highest pleasure life had to offer him, was 
altogether disposed to undervalue it, while 
Ortheris openly said it would be better to break 
the thing up. Dearsley, he argued, might be 
a many-sided man, capable, despite his mag- 
nificent fighting qualities, of setting in motion 
the machinery of the civil law, a thing much 
abhorred by the soldier. Under the circum- 
stances their fun had come and passed, the next 
pay-day was close at hand, when there would 
be beer for all. Wherefore longer conserve 
the painted palanquin? 

"A first-class rifle shot an' a good little man 
av your inches you are," said Mulvaney. 
"But you niver had a head worth a soft-boiled 
egg. 'Tis me has to lie awake av nights 
schamin' an' plottin* for the three av us. 
Orth'ris, me son, 'tis no matther av a few 
gallons av beer — no, nor twenty gallons — but 
tubs an' vats an' firkins in that sedan-chair." 

Meantime, the palanquin stayed in my stall, 
the key of which was in Mulvaney's hand. 

Pay-day came, and with it beer. It was not 
in experience to hope that Mulvaney, dried by 
four weeks' drought, would avoid excess. 
Next morning he and the palanquin had dis- 
appeared. He had taken the precaution of 



80 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

getting three days' leave "to see a friend on 
the railway," and the colonel, well knowing 
that the seasonal outburst was near, and hop- 
ing it would spend its force beyond the limits 
of his jurisdiction, cheerfully gave him all he 
demanded. At this point his history, as 
recorded in the mess-room, stopped. 

Ortheris carried it not much further. '*No, 
'e wasn't drunk," said the little man, loyally, 
*'the liquor was no more than feelin' its way 
round inside of 'im; but 'e went an' filled that 
'ole bloomin* palanquin with bottles 'fore 'e 
went off. He's gone an' 'ired six men to carry 
'im, an' I 'ad to 'elp 'im into 'is nupshal couch, 
'cause 'e vv^ouldn't 'ear reason. 'E's gone off 
in 'is shirt an' trousies, swearin' tremenjus — 
gone down the road in the palanquin, wavin' 
'is leo^-s out o' windy." 

"Yes," said I, "but where?" 

"Now you arx me a question. *E said 'e 
was going to sell that palanquin; but from 
observations what happened when I was 
stuffin' 'im through the door, I fancy 'e's gone 
to the new embarkment to mock at Dearsley. 
Soon as Jock's off duty I'm going there to see 
if 'e's safe — not Mulvaney, but t'other man. 
My saints, but I pity 'im as 'elps Terence out o' 
the palanquin when 'e's once fair drunk!" 

"He'll come back," I said, 

" 'Corse 'e will. On'y question is, what'll 'e 
be doin' on the road. Killing Dearsley, like 
as not. 'E shouldn't 'a gone without Jock or 
me. " 

Re-enforced by Learoyd, Ortheris sought the 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 81 

foreman of the coolie-gang. Dearsley's head 
was still embellished with towels. Mulvaney, 
drunk or sober, would have struck no man in 
that condition, and Dearsley indignantly de- 
nied that he would have taken advantage of the 
intoxicated brave. 

"I had my pick o' you two," he explained to 
Learoyd, "and you got my palanquin — not be- 
fore I'd made my profit on it. Why'd I do 
harm when everything's settled? Your man 
did come here — drunk as Davy's cow on a 
frosty night — came a-purpose to mock me — 
struck his 'ead out of the door and called me a 
crucified hodman. I made him drunker, an' 
sent him along. But I never touched him. " 

To these things, Learoyd, slov/ to perceive 
the evidences of sincerity, answered only: "If 
owt comes to Mulvaney long o' you, I'll grip- 
pie you, clouts or no clouts on your ugly head, 
an' I'll draw t* throat twisty-ways, man. See 
there now. ' ' 

The embassy removed itself, and Dearsley, 
the battered, laughed alone over his supper 
that evening. 

Three days passed — a fourth and a fifth. 
The week drew to a close, and Mulvaney did 
not return. He, his royal palanquin, and his 
six attendants, had vanished into air. A very 
large and very tipsy soldier, his feet sticking 
out of the litter of a reigning princess, is not 
a thing to travel along the ways without com- 
ment. Yet no man of all the country round 
had seen any such wonder. He was, and he 
was not ; and Learoyd suggested the immedi- 

8 Ditties 



82 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

ate smashment as a sacrifice to his ghost. 
Ortheris insisted that all was well. 

"When Mulvaney goes up the road," said 
he, *' 'e's like to go a very long ways up, espe- 
cially when 'e's so blue drunk as 'e is now. 
But what gits me is 'is not bein' 'card of 
pullin' wool of the niggers somewhere about. 
That don't look good. The drink must ha' 
died out in 'im by this, unless 'e's broke a 
bank, an' then — Why don't 'e come back? 
'E didn't ought to ha' gone off without us." 

Even Ortheris' heart sunk at the end of the 
seventh da)'', for half the regiment were out 
scouring the country-sides, and Learoyd had 
been forced to fight two men who hinted 
openly that Mulvaney had deserted. To do 
him justice, the colonel laughed at the notion, 
even when it was put forward b}^ his much- 
trusted adjutant. 

*' Mulvaney would as soon think of deserting 
as you would," said he. "No; he's either 
fallen into a mischief among the villagers — and 
yet that isn't likely, for he'd blarney himself 
out of the pit ; or else he is engaged on urgent 
private affairs — some stupendous devilment 
that we shall hear of at mess after it has been 
the round of the barrack-room. The worst of 
it is that I shall have to give him twenty-eight 
days' confinement at least for being absent 
without leave, just when I most want him to 
lick the new batch of recruits into shape. I 
never knew a man who could put polish on 
young soldiers as quickly as Mulvaney can. 
How does he do it?" 



i 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 83 

"With blarney and the buckle-end of a belt, 
sir," said the adjutant. "He is worth a couple 
of non-commissioned officers when we are deal- 
ing with an Irish draft, and the London lads 
seem to adore him. The worst of it is that if 
he goes to the cells the other two are neither 
to hold nor to bind till he comes out again. I 
belie^te Ortheris preaches mutiny on those 
occasions, and I know that the mere presence 
of Learoyd mourning for Mulvaney kills all the 
cheerfulness of his room. The sergeants tell 
me that he allows no man to laugh when he 
feels unhappy. They are a queer gang." 

"For all that, I wish we had a few more of 
them. I like a well-.conducted regiment, but 
these pasty-faced, shifty-eyed, mealy-mouthed 
young slouches from the depot worry me some- 
times with their offensive virtue. They don't 
seem to have backbone enough to do anything 
but play cards and prowl round the married 
quarters. I believe I'd forgive that old villain 
on the spot if he turned up with any sort of 
explanation that I could in decency accept." 

"Not likely to be much difficulty about that, 
sir," said the adjutant. " Mulvaney 's explana- 
tions are one degree less wonderful than his 
performances. They say that when he was in 
the Black Tyrone, before he came to us, he 
,was discovered on the banks of the Liffey try- 
ing to sell his colonel's charger to a Donegal 
dealer as a perfect lady's hack. Shakbolt com- 
manded the Tyrone then." 

"Shakbolt must have had apoplexy at the 
thought of his ramping war-horses answering to 



84 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

that description. He used to buy unbacked 
devils and tame them by starvation. What did 
Mulvaney say?" 

"That he was a member of the Society for 
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, anxious 
to 'sell the poor baste where he would get 
something to fill out his dimples.' Shakbolt 
laughed, but I fancy that was why Mulvaney 
exchanged to ours." 

"I wish he were back," said the colonel; 
*'for I like him, and believe he likes me." 

That evening, to cheer our souls, Learoyd, 
Ortheris and I went into the waste to smoke 
out a porcupine. All the dogs attended, but 
even their clamor — and they began to discuss 
the shortcomings of porcupines before they 
left cantonments — could not take us out of our- 
selves. A large, low moon turned the tops of 
the plume grass to silver, and the stunted 
camel-thorn bushes and sour tamarisks into the 
likeness of trooping devils. The smell of the 
sun had not left the earth, and little aimless 
winds, blowing across the rose gardens to the 
southward, brought the scent of dried roses 
and water. Our fire once started, and the 
dogs craftily disposed to wait the dash of the 
porcupine, we climbed to the top of rain- 
scarred hillock of earth, and looked across the 
scrub, seamed with cattle-paths, white with 
the long grass, and dotted with spots of level 
pond-bottom, where the snipe would gather in 
winter. 

"This, " said Ortheris, with a sigh, as he took 
in the unkempt desolation of it all, "this is 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 85 

sanguinary. This is unnsually sanguinary. 
Sort o' mad country. Like a grate when the 
fire's put out by the sun. *' He shaded his eyes 
against the moonlight. 

*'An' there's a loony dancin' in the middle 
of it all. Quite right. I'd dance, too, if I 
wasn't so down-heart." 

There pranced a portent in the face of the 
moon — a huge and ragged spirit of the waste, 
that flapped its wings from afar. It had risen 
out of the earth; it was coming toward us, and 
its outline was never twice the same. The 
toga, table-cloth, or dressing-gown, whatever 
the creature wore, took a hundred shapes. 
Once it stopped on a neighboring mound and 
flung all its legs and arms to the winds. 

"My, but that scarecrow 'as got 'em bad!" 
said Ortheris. "Seems like if 'e comes any 
furder we'll 'ave to argify with 'im. " 

Learoyd raised himself from the dirt as a 
bull clears his flanks of the wallow. And as 
a bull bellows, so he, after a short minute at 
gaze, gave tongue to the stars. 

"Mulvaney! Mulvaney! A hoo!" 

Then we yelled all together, and the figure 
dipped into the hollow till, with a crash of 
rending grass, the lost one strode up to the 
light of the fire, and disappeared to the waist 
in a wave of joyous dogs. Then Learoyd and 
Ortheris gave greeting bass and falsetto. 

"You damned fool!" said they, and severally 
punched him with their fists. 

"Go easy!" he answered, wrapping a huge 
arm around each. "I would have you to know 



86 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

that I am a god, to be treated as such — though, | 
by my faith, I fancy I've got to go to the 
guard-room just like a privit soldier." 

The latter part of the sentence destroyed the 
suspicions raised by the former. Any one 
would have been justified in regarding Mul- 
vaney as mad. He was hatless and shoeless, 
and his shirt and trousers were dropping off 
him. But he wore one wondrous garment — a 
gigantic cloak that fell from collar-bone to 
heels — of pale pink silk, wrought all over, in 
cunningest needlework of hands long since 
dead, with the loves of the Hindoo gods. The 
monstrous figures leaped in and out of the light 
of the fire as he settled the folds round him. 

Ortheris handled the stuff respectfully for a 
moment while I was trying to remember 
where I had seen it before. 

Then he screamed: "What 'ave you done 
with the palanquin? You're wearin' the 
linin'." 

"I am," said the Irishman, **an' by the 
same token the 'broidery is scrapin' me hide 
off. I've lived in this sumpshus counterpane 
for four days. Me son, I begin to ondherstand 
why the naygur is no use. Widout me boots, 
an' me trousers like an open-work stocking on 
a gyurl's leg at a dance, I began to feel like a 
naygur — all timorous. Give me a pipe an' I'll 
teflon." 

He lighted a pipe, resumed his grip of his two 
friends, and rocked to and fro in a gale of 
laughter. 

"Mulvaney," said Ortheris sternly, " 'tain't 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 87 

no time for laughin'. You've given Jock an' 
me more trouble than you're worth. You 'ave 
been absent without leave, and* you'll go into 
the cells for that; an' you 'ave come back dis- 
gustingly dressed, an' most improper, in the 
linin* o' that bloomin* palanquin. Instid of 
which you laugh. An' we thought you was 
dead all the time." 

*'Bhoys," said the culprit, still shaking 
gently, *'whin I've done my tale you may cry 
if you like, an 'little Orth'rishere can thrample 
my insides out. Ha' done an' listen. My per- 
forminces ha' been stupendous; my luck has 
been the blessed luck of the British army — an' 
there's no better than that. I went out drunk 
and drinking in the palanquin, and I have 
come back a pink god. Did any of you go to 
Dearsley afther my time was up? He was at 
the bottom of ut all." 

'°Ah said so," murmured Learoyd. "To- 
morrow ah'll smash t' face in upon his head." 

*'Ye will not. Dearsley 's a jool av a man. 
Afther Orth'ris had put me into the palanquin 
an' the six bearer-men were gruntin' down the 
road, I tuk thought to mock Dearsley for that 
fight. So I tould thim: 'Goto the embank- 
ment, ' and there, bein' most amazin' full, I 
shtuck my head out av the concern an' passed 
compliments wid Dearsley. I must ha' mis- 
called him outrageous, for whin I am that way 
the power of the tongue comes on me. I can 
bare remimber tellin' him that his mouth 
opened endways like the mouth of a skate, 
which was thrue afther Learoyd had handled 



88 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

ut; an' I clear remimber his taking no manner 
nor matter of offense, but givin' me a big 
dhrink of beer. *Twas the beer that did the 
thrick, for I crawled back into the palanquin, 
steppin' on me right ear wid me left foot, an* 
thin I slept like the dead. Wanst I half 
roused, an' begad the noise in my head was 
tremenjus — roarin' an' poundin' an' rattlin' 
such as was quite new to me. 'Mother av 
mercy,' thinks I, 'phwat a concertina I will 
have on my shoulders v/hin I wal:c!' An' wid 
that I curls myself up to sleep before ut should 
get hould on me. Bhoyc, thr.t noise was not 
dhrink, 'twas the rattle av a thrainT" 

There followed an impressive pause. 

*'Yes, he had put rie on a thrain— put me, 
palanquin an' all, an' six black assassins av his 
own coolies that v/r.c in l:is nefarious confi- 
dence, on the flat av a ballast- truck, and we 
were rowlin' and bowlin' r.long to Benares. 
Glory be that I did not wake up then an' intro- 
juce myself to the coolies. As I was sayiu', I 
slept for the better part av a day an'a night. 
But remimber you, that that man Dearsley 
had packed me off on one av his material 
thrains to Benares, all for to make me over- 
stay my leave an' get me into the cells. " 

The explanation was an eminently rational 
one. Benares was at least ten hours by rail 
from cantonnicnis, and nothing in the world 
could have saved !Mulvaney from arrest as a 
deserter had he appeared there in the apparel 
of his orgies. Dearsley had not forgotten to 
take revenge. Learoyd, drawing back a lit- 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 89 

tie, began to place soft blows over selected 
portions of Mulvaney's body. His thoughts 
were away on the embankment, and they 
meditated evil for Dearsley. Mulvaney con- 
tinued: "Whin I was full awake, the palan- 
quin was set down in a street, I suspicioned, 
for I could hear people passin' and talkin'. 
But I knew well I was far from home. There is a 
queer smell upon our cantonments — smell av 
dried earth and brick-kilns wid v/hiffs av a a 
cavalry stable-litter. This place smelt mari- 
gold flowers an' bad water, an' wanst some- 
thin' alive came an' blew heavy with his muz- 
zle at the chink of the shutter. 'It's in a 
village I am,* thinks I to myself, 'an' the paro- 
chial buffalo is investigatin* the palanquin.' 
But anyways I had no desire to move. Only 
lie still whin you're in foreign parts, an' the 
standin' luck av the British army will carry ye 
through. That is an epigram. I made ut. 

"Thin a lot av whisperin' devils surrounded 
the palanquin. *Take ut up,' says wan man. 
'But who'll pay us?* says another. *The 
Maharanee's minister, av course,* sez the man. 
' Oho ! ' sez I to myself ; ' I'm a quane in me own 
right, wid a minister to pay me expenses. 
I'll be an emperor if I lie still long enough. 
But this is no village I've struck.' I lay 
quiet, but I gummed me right eye to a crack 
av the shutters, an' I saw that the whole street 
was crammed wid palanquins an' horses an' a 
sprinklin' av naked priests, all yellow powder 
an' tigers' tails. But I may tell you, Orth'ris, 
an' you, Learoyd, that av all the palanquins 



90 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

ours was the most imperial an' magnificent. 
Now, a palanquin means a native lady all the 
world over, except whin a soldier av the 
quane happens to be takin' a ride. 'Women 
an' priest!' sez I. *Your father's son is in the 
right pew this time, Terence. There will be 
proceedin's. ' Six black devils in pink muslin 
tuk up the palanquin, an' oh! but the rowlin' 
an* the rockin' made me sick. Thin we got 
fair jammed among the palanquins — not more 
than fifty avthem — an' we grated an' bumped 
like Queenstown potato-sacks in a runnin' tide. 
I cud hear the women giglin' and squirmin' 
in their palanquins, but mine was the royal 
equipage. They made way for ut, an', begad, 
the pink muslin men o' mine were howlin', 
*Room for the Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun. ' 
Do you know ave the lady, sorr?" 

' * Yes, ' ' said I. * ' She is a very estimable old 
queen of the Cerntral India States, and they say 
she is fat. How on earth could she go to Be- 
nares without all the city knowing her palan- 
quin?" 

*' 'Twas the eternal foolishness av the nay- 
gur men. They saw the palanquin lying lone- 
ful an' forlornsome, an' the beauty of ut, after 
Dearsley's men had dhropped ut an* gone 
away, an' they gave ut the best name that 
occurred to thim. Quite right, too. For 
aught we know, the old lady was travelin' in- 
cog, — like me. I'm glad to hear she's fat. I 
was no light-weight myself, an' my men were 
mortial anxious to dhrop me under a great big 
archway promiscuously ornamented wid the 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 91 

most improper carvin's an' cuttin's I iver saw. 
Begad! they made me blush — like a mahar- 
anee." 

"The temple of the Prithi-Devi," I mur- 
mured, remembering the monstrous horrors of 
that sculptured archway at Benares. 

"Pretty Devilskins, savin' your presence, 
sdTr. There was nothin' pretty about ut, ex- 
cept me! 'Twas all half dhark, an' whin the 
coolies left they shut a big black gate behind 
av us, an' half a company av fat yellow priests 
began pully-haulin' the palanquins into dhark- 
er place yet — a big stone hall full av pillars an' 
gods an* incense an' all manner av similar 
thruck. The gate disconcerted me, for I per- 
ceived I wud have to go forward to get out, my 
retreat bein' cut off. By the same token, a 
good priest makes a bad palanquin-coolie. 
Begad ! they nearly turned me inside out drag- 
ging the palanquin to the temple. Now the 
disposishin ave the forces inside was this way. 
The Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun — that was 
me — lay by the favor of Providence on the far 
left flank behind the dhark av a pillar carved 
with elephants' heads. The remainder av the 
palanquins was in a big half circle facing into 
the biggest, fattest, and most amazin* she-god 
that iver I dreamed av. Her head ran up into 
the black above us, an' her feet stuck out in 
the light av a little fire av melted butter that 
a priest was feedin' out ava butter-dish. Thin 
a man began to sing an' play on somethin', 
back in the dhark, an' 'twas a queer song. 
Ut made my hair lift on the back av my neck. 



92 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

Thin the doors av all the palanquins slid back^ 
an* the women bundled out. I saw what I'll 
never see again. 'Tv/as more glorious than 
transformations, at a pantomime, for they was 
in pink, an' blue, an' silver, an' red, an' grass- 
green, wid diamonds, an' imeralds, an* great 
red rubies. I never saw the like, an' I never 
will again." 

*' Seeing that in all probability you were 
watching the wives and daughters of most of 
the kings of India, the chances are that you 
won't," I said, for it was dawning upon me 
that Mulvaney had stumbled upon a big 
queen's praying at Benares. 

"I niver will," he said, mournfully. "That 
sight doesn't come twict to any man. It made 
me ashamed to watch. A fat priest knocked 
at my door. I didn't think he'd have the inso- 
lence to disturb the Maharanee av Gokral-See- 
tarun, so I lay still. 'The old cow's asleep,* sez 
he to another. 'Let her be,* sez that. ' 'Twill 
be long before she has a calf!' I might ha* 
known before he spoke that all a woman prays 
for in Injia — an' for the matter o' that in Eng- 
land, too — is childher. That made me more 
sorry I'd come, me bein', as you well know, a 
childless man. 

"They prayed, an' the butter-fires blazed 
up an' the incense turned everything blue, an* 
between that an' the fires the women looked as 
tho' they were all ablaze an' twinklin'. They 
took hold of the she-god's knees, they cried 
out, an' they threw themselves about, an' 
that world-without-end-amen music was 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 93 

dhrivin' thim mad. Mother av Hiven! how 
they cried, an' the ould she-god grinnin' 
above them all so scornful! The dhrink was 
dyin' out in me fast, an' I was thinkin' harder 
than the thoughts wud go through my head — 
thinkin' how to get out, an' all manner of non- 
sense as well. The women were rockin' in 
rows, their di'mond belts clickin', an' the tears 
runnin' out betune their hands, an' the lights 
were goin' lower and dharker. Thin there 
was a blaze like lightnin' from the roof, an' 
that showed me the inside av the palanquin, an' 
at the end where my foot was stood the livin' 
spit an* image o' myself worked on the linin'. 
This man here, it was." 

He hunted in the folds of his pink cloak, ran 
a hand under one, and thrust into the fire-light 
a foot-long embroidered presentment of the 
great god Krishna playing on a flute. The 
heavy jowl, the staring eyes, and the blue-black 
mustache of the god made up a far-off resem- 
blance to Mulvaney. 

"The blaze was gone in a wink, but the 
whole schame came to me thin. I believe I 
was mad, too. I slid the off-shutter open an' 
rowled out into the dhark behmd the elephant- 
head pillar, tucked up my trousies to my knee, 
slipped off my boots, and took a general hould 
av all the pink linin' av the palanquin. Glory 
be, ut ripped out like a woman's driss when 
you thread on ut at a sargent's ball, an' a bot- 
tle came with ut. I tuk the bottle, an' the 
next minut I was out av the dhark av the pil- 
lar, the pink linin' wrapped round me most 



94 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

graceful, the music thunderin' like kettle- 
drums, an' a cowld draft blowin' round my 
bare legs. By this hand that did ut, I was 
Krishna tootlin' on the flute — the god that 
the rig'mental chaplain talks about. A sweet 
sight I must ha' looked. I knew my eyes 
were big and my face was wax-white, an* at 
the worst I must ha* looked like a ghost. But 
they took me for the livin' god. The music 
stopped, and the women were dead dumb, an' 
I crooked my legs like a shepherd on a china 
basin, an' I did the ghost-waggle with my feet 
as I had done at the rig'mental theater many 
times, an' slid across the temple in front av 
the she-god, tootlin* on the beer-bottle." 

"Wot did you toot?" demanded Ortheris. 

"Me? Oh!" Mulvaney sprung up, suiting 
the action to the word, and sliding gravely in 
front of us, a dilapidated deity in the half 
light. "1 sung: 

•• 'Only say 

You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan, 
Don't say nay, 
Charmin' Juley Callaghan.' 

I didn't know my own voice when I sung. An* 
oh! 'twas pitiful to see the women. The dar- 
lin's were down on their faces. Whin I passed 
the last wan I could see her poor little fingers 
workin* one in another as if she wanted to 
touch my feet. So I threw the tail of this pink 
overcoat over her head for the greater honor, 
an' slid into the dhark on the other side of the 
temple, and fetched up in the arms av a big fat 
priest. All I wanted was to get av/ay clear. 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 95 

So I tuk him by his greasy throat an* shut the 
speech out av him. 'Out!' sez I. 'Which 
way, ye fat heathen?' *Oh!'sezhe. 'Man/ 
sez I. 'White man, soldier man, common sol- 
dier man. Where is the back door?' 'This 
way,' sez my fat friend, duckin* behind a bi^ 
bull-god an' divin' into a passage. Thin I re- 
mirftbered that I must ha' made the miraculous 
reputation of that temple for the next fifty 
years. 'Not so fast,' I sez, an' I held out both 
my hands wid a wink. That ould thief smiled 
like a father. I took him by the back av the 
neck in case he should be wishful to put a knife 
into me unbeknownst, an' I ran him up an* 
down the passage twice to collect his sensibili- 
ties. 'Be quiet,* sez he, in English. 'Now 
5^ou talk sense,' I sez. 'Fhwat'll you give me 
for the use of that most iligant palanquin I 
have no time to take away?' 'Don't tell,' sez 
he. 'Is ut like?' sez I. 'But ye might give 
me my railway fare. I'm far from my home, 
an' I've done you a service.' Bhoys, 'tis a 
good thing to be a priest. The ould man niver 
throubled himself to draw from a bank. As I 
will prove to you subsequint, he philandered 
all round the slack av his clothes and began 
dribblin* ten-rupee notes, old gold mohurs, 
and rupees into my hand till I could hould no 
more." 

"You lie!" said Ortheris. "You*re mad or 
sunstrook. A native don't give coin unless 
you cut it out av *im. 'Tain't nature." 

"Then my lie an' my sunstroke is concealed 
under that lump av sod yonder/* retorted 



96 INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 

Mulvaney, unruffled, nodding- across the scrub. 
"An' there's a dale more in nature than your 
squidgy little legs have iver taken you to, 
Orth'ris, me son. Four hundred, and thirty- 
four rupees by my reckonin', an' a big fat gold 
necklace that I took from him as a remim- 
brancer. ' ' 

"An' *e give it to you for love?" said Or- 
theris. 

**We were alone in that passage. Maybe I 
was a trifle too pressin', but considher fwhat I 
had done for the good av the temple and the 
iverlastin' joy av those women. 'Twas cheap 
at the price. I would ha' taken more if I could 
ha* found it. I turned the ould man upside 
down at the last, but he was milked dhry. 
Thin he opened a door in another passage, an' 
I found myself up to my knees in Benares 
river- water, an' bad smellin' ut is. More by 
token I had come out on the river line close to 
the burnin'-ghat and contagious to a cracklin' 
corpse. This was in the heart av the night, 
for I had been four hours in the temple. 
There was a crowd av boats tied up, so I tuk 
wan an' wint across the river. Thin I came 
home, lyin' up by day," 

"How on earth did you manage?" I said. 

"How did Sir Frederick Roberts get from 
Cabul to Candahar? He marched, an' he niver 
told how near he was to breakin' down. That's 
why he is phwat he is. An' now" — Mulvaney 
yawned portentously — "now I will go and give 
myself up for absince widout leave. It's eight- 
an'-twenty days an' the rough end of the col- 




Jane Austen wept." — Page 48. 

Departmental Ditties. 



INCARNATION OF MULVANEY. 91 

onel's tongue in orderly-room, any way you 
look at ut. But 'tis cheap at the price." 

**Mulvaney," said I, softly, **if there hap- 
pens to be any sort of excuse that the colonel 
can in any way accept, I have a notion that 
you'll get nothing more than the dressing 
down. The new recruits are in, and — " 

"Not a word more, sorr. Is ut excuses the 
ould man wants? *Tis not my waj^ but he 
shall have thim. " And he flapped his way to 
cantonments, singing lustily: 

"So they sent a corp'ril's file, 
And they put me in the guyard room, 
For conduck unbecomin' of a soldier." 

Therewith he surrendered himself to the joy- 
ful and almost weeping guard, and was made 
much of by his fellows. But to the colonel he 
said that he had been smitten with sunstroke 
and had lain insensible on a villager's cot for 
untold hours, and between laughter and good- 
will the affair was smoothed over, so that he 
could next day teach the new recruits how to 
"fear God, honor the queen, shoot straight, 
and keep clean. ' ' 



? Ditties 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 



'^ Ohe ahmed din! Shafiz Ullah ahoo! Baha- 
dur Khan, where are you? Come out of the 
tents, as I have done, and fight against the 
English. Don't kill your own kin! Come 
out to me ! ' ' 

The deserter from a native corps was crawl- 
ing round the outskirts of the camp, firing at 
intervals, and shouting invitations to his old 
comrades. Misled by the rain and the dark- 
ness, he came to the English wing of the camp, 
and with his yelping and rifle practice dis- 
turbed the men. They had been making roads 
all day, and were tired. 

Ortheris was sleeping at Learoyd's feet. 
**Wot's all that?" he said, thickly. Learoyd 
snored, and a Snider bullet ripped its way 
through the tent wall. The men swore. *'It's 
that bloomin' deserter from the Aurangaba- 
dis, " said Ortheris. **Git up, some one, an' 
tell 'em *e's come to the wrong shop." 

'*Go to sleep, little man," said Mulvaney, 
who was steaming nearest the door. *'I can't 
rise an' expaytiate with him. 'Tis rainin' in- 
trenchin' tools outside." 

" 'Tain't because you bloomin' can't. It's 
cause you bloomin' won't, ye long, limp, lousy, 
lazy beggar you. 'Ark to 'im 'owling!" 

98 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 99 

"Wot's the good of argyfying? Put a bullet 
into the swine! *E's keepin* us awake!" said 
another voice. 

A subaltern shouted angrily, and a dripping 
sentry whined from the darkness. 

*' 'Tain't no good, sir. I can't see 'im. 'E's 
'idin' somewhere down 'ill." 

Ortheris tumbled out of his blanket. *' Shall 
I try to get 'im, sir?" said he. 

'*No," was the answer; **lie down. I won't 
have the whole camp shooting all round the 
clock. Tell him to go and pot his friends. ' ' 

Ortheris considered for a moment Then, 
putting his head under the tent wall, he called, 
as a 'buss conductor calls in a block, ** 'Igher 
up, there! 'Igher up!" 

The men laughed, and the laughter was car- 
ried down wind to the deserter, who, hearing 
that he had made a mistake, went off to worry 
his own regiment half a mile away. He was 
received with shots, for the Aurangabadis were 
very angry with him for disgracing their colors: 

**An' that's all right," said Ortheris, with- 
drawing his head as he heard the hiccough of 
the Sniders in the distance. **S'elp me Gawd, 
tho" that man's not fit to live — messin' with my 
beauty-sleep this way." 

*'Go out and shoot him in the morning, 
then," said the subaltern, incautiously. "Si- 
lence in the tents now! Get your rest, men!" 

Ortheris lay down withahappy little sigh, and 
in two minutes there was no sound except the 
rain on the canvas and the all-embracing and 
elemental snoring of Learoyd. 

tifC. 



100 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

The camp lay on a bare ridge of the Himala- 
yas, and for a week had been waiting for a fly- 
ing column to make connection. The nightly 
rounds of the deserter and his friends had be- 
come a nuisance. 

In the morning the men dried themselves in 
hot sunshine and cleaned their grimy accouter- 
ments. The native regiment was to take its 
turn of road-making that day while the Old 
Regiment loafed. 

'*I'm goin* to lay fer a shot at that man," 
said Ortheris, when he had finished washing 
out his rifle. ** *E comes up the water-course 
every evenin* about five o'clock. If wq go and 
lie out on the north 'ill a bit this afternoon 
we'll get 'im. " 

*' You're a bloodthirsty little mosquito," said 
Mulvaney, blowing blue clouds into the air. 
"But I suppose I will have to come wid you. 
Fwhere's Jock?" 

"Gone out with the Mixed Pickles, 'cause 'e 
thinks "isself a bloomin' marksman," said 
Ortheris, with scorn. 

The "Mixed Pickles" were a detachment of 
picked shots, generally employed in clearing 
spurs of hills when the enemy were too imper- 
tinent. This taught the young oflicers how to 
handle men, and did not do the enemy much 
harm. Mulvaney and Ortheris strolled out of 
camp, and passed the Aurangabadis going to 
their road-making. 

"You've got to sweat to-day," said Ortheris 
genially. "Were going to get your man. 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 101 

You didn't knock 'im out last night by any 
chance, any of you?" 

"No. The pig went away mocking tis. I 
had one shot at 'im, " said a private. "He's 
my cousin, and I ought to have cleared our 
dishonor. But good-luck to you." 

They went cautiously to the north hill, 
Ortheris leading, because, as he explained, 
"this is a long-range show, an' I've got to do 
it. " His was an almost passionate devotion to 
his rifle, whom, by barrack-room report, he 
was supposed to kiss every night before turn- 
ing in. Charges and scuffles he held in con- 
tempt, and, when they were inevitable, slipped 
between Mulvaney and Learoyd, bidding them 
to fight for his skin as well as their own. They 
never failed him. He trotted along, questing 
like a hound on a broken trail, through the 
wood of the north hill. At last he was satisfied, 
and threw himself down on the soft pine-needle 
slope that commanded a clear view of the 
water-course and a brown bare hillside beyond 
it. The trees made a scented darkness in 
which an army corps could have hidden from 
the sun-glare without. 

" 'Ere'sthe tail o' the wood," said Ortheris. 
" 'E's got to come up the water-course, 'cause 
it gives 'im cover. We'll lay 'ere. 'Tain't not 
'arf so bloomin' dusty neither." 

He buried his nose in a clump of scentless 
white violets. No one had come to tell the 
flowers that the season of their strength was 
long past, and they had bloomed merrily in 
the twilight of the pines. 



102 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

"This is something like," he said, luxuri- 
ously. "Wot a 'evinly clear drop for a bullet 
acrost. How much d' you make it, Mulvaney?" 

'"Seven hunder. Maybe a trifle less, bekase 
the air's so thin." 

Wop ! wop ! wop ! went a volley of musketry 
on the rear face of the north hill. 

"Curse them Mixed Pickles firin' at nothin' ! 
They'll scare 'arf the country." 

"Thry a sightin' shot in the middle of the 
row," said Mulvaney, the man of many wiles. 
"There's a red rock yonder he'll be sure to 
pass. Quick!" 

Ortheris ran his sight up to six hundred 
yards and fired. The bullet threw up a feather 
of dust by a clump of gentians at the base of 
the rock. 

"'Good enough!" said Ortheris, snapping 
the scale down. "You snick your sights to 
mine, or a little lower. You're always firin' 
high. But remember, first shot to me. Oh, 
Lordy, but it's a lovely afternoon." 

The noise of the firing grew louder, and 
there was a tramping of men in the wood. 
The two lay very quiet, for they knew that the 
British soldier is desperately prone to fire at 
anything that moves or calls. Then Learoyd 
appeared, his tunic ripped across the breast by 
a bullet, looking ashamed of himself. He 
flung down on the pine-needles, breathing in 
snorts. 

"One o' them damned gardeners o' th' 
Pickles," said he, fingering the rent. "Firin' 
to th' right flank, when he knowed I was there. 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 103 

If I knew who he was I'd a ripped the hide off 
'un. Look at ma tunic!" 

''That's the spishil trustability av a marks- 
man. Train him to hit a fly wid a stiddy rest 
at seven hunder, an* he'll loose on anythin' 
he sees or hears up to th' mile. You're well 
out av that fancy-firin' gang, Jock. Stay 
here." 

"Bin firin' at the bloomin* wind in the 
bloomin' treetops," said Ortheris, with a 
chuckle. "I'll show you some firin' later on. " 

They wallowed in the pine-needles, and the 
sun warmed them where they lay. The Mixed 
Pickles ceased firing and returned to camp, 
and left the wood to a few scared apes. The 
water-course lifted up its voice in the silence 
and talked foolishly to the rocks. Now and 
again the dull thump of a blasting charge three 
miles away told that the Aurangabadis were in 
difficulties with their road-making. The men 
smiled as they listened, and lay still soaking in 
the warm leisure. Presently Learoyd, be- 
tween the whiffs of his pipe : 

"Seems queer — about 'im yonder — desertin* 
at all." 

" *E'll be a bloomin' side queerer when I've 
done with 'im, " said Ortheris. They were 
talking in whispers, for the stillness of the 
wood and the desire of slaughter lay heavy 
upon them. 

"I make no doubt he had his reasons for 
desertin'; but, my faith! I make less doubt 
ivry man has good reason for killin' him, " said 
Mulvaney. 



104 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

*' Happen there was a lass tewed up wi' it. 
Men do more than more for th' sake of a lass." 

"They make most av us 'list. They've no 
manner av right to make us desert." 

"Ah, they make us 'list, or their fathers do," 
said Learoyd, softly, his helmet over his eyes. 

Ortheris' brows contracted savagely. He 
was watching the valley. "If it's a girl, I'll 
shoot the beggar twice over, an' second time 
for bein' a fool. You're blasted sentimental 
all of a sudden. Thinkin' o' your last near 
shave?" 

"Nay, lad; ah was but thinkin' o' what had 
happened." 

"An' fwhat has happened, ye lumberin* 
child av calamity, that you're lowing like a 
cow-calf at the back av the pasture, an' sug- 
gestin' invidious excuses for the man Stanley's 
goin' to kill. Ye'U have to wait another hour 
yet, little man. Spit it out, Jock, an' bellow 
melojus to the moon. It takes an earthquake 
or a bullet graze to fetch aught out av you. 
Discourse, Don Juan ! The a-moors of Lotha- 
rius Learoyd. Stanley, kape a rowlin' rig'men- 
tal eye on the valley. ' ' 

"It's along o' yon hill there," said Learoyd, 
watching the bare sub-Himalayan spurr that 
reminded him of his Yorkshire moors. He 
was speaking more to himself than his fellows. 
"Ay," said he; "Rumbolds Moor stands up 
ower Skipton town, an' Greenhow Hill stands 
up ower Pately Brigg. I reckon you've never 
heard tell o' Greenhow Hill, but yon bit o* 
bare stuff, if there was nobbut a white road 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 105 

windin', is like ut, strangely like. Moors an' 
moors — moors wi' never a tree for shelter, an* 
gray houses wi' flag-stone rooves, and pewits 
cryin', an* a windhover goin' to and fro just 
like these kites. And cold! a wind that cuts 
you like a knife. You could tell Greenhow 
Hill folk by the red-apple color o' their cheeks 
an' nose-tips, an' their blue eyes, driven into 
pin-points by the wind. Miners mostly, bur- 
rowin' for lead i' th' hillsides, followin' the 
trail of th' ore vein same as a field-rat. It was 
the roughest minin' I ever seen. You'd come 
on a bit o' crackin' wood windlass like a well- 
head, an' you was let down i' th' bight of a 
rope, fendin' yoursen off the side wi' one hand, 
carryin' a candle stuck in a lump o' clay with 
t'other, an' clickin' hold of a rope with t'other 
hand." 

"An' that's three of them," said Mulvaney. 
"Must be a good climate in those parts." 

Learoyd took no heed. 

"An' then yo' came to a level, where you 
crept on your hand an' knees through a mile o' 
windin' drift, an' 3^ou come out into a cave- 
place as big as Leeds Town-hall, with an 
engine pumpin' water from workin's 'at went 
deeper still. It's a queer country, let alone 
minin', for the hill is full of those natural 
caves, an' the rivers an' the becks drops into 
what they call pot-holes, an' come out again 
miles away. " 

"Wot was you doin' there?" said Ortheris. 

"I was a young chap then, an' mostly went 
wi' 'osses, leadin' coal and lead ore; but at th' 



106 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

time I'm tellin* on I was drivin' the wagon 
team i' the big sumph. I didn't belong to that 
countryside by rights. I went there because 
of a little difference at home, an' at fust I took 
up wi' a rough lot. One night we'd been 
drinkin', and I must hav' hed more than I 
could stand, or happen th' ale was none so 
good. Though i* them days, by for God, I 
never seed bad ale." He flung his arms over 
his head and gripped a vast handful of white 
violets. "Nah," said he, "I never seed the 
ale I could not drink, the 'bacca I could not 
smoke, nor the lass I could not kiss. Well, 
we mun have a race home, the lot on us. I 
lost all th' others, an* when I was climbin' 
ower one of them walls built o' loose stones, I 
comes down into the ditch, stones an' all, an' 
broke my arm. Not as I knowed much about 
it, for I fell on th' back o' my head, an' was 
knocked stupid like. An' when I come to 
mysen it were mornin', an' I were lyin' on 
the settle i' Jesse Roantree's house-place, an' 
'Liza Roantree was settin' sewin'. I ached all 
ower, and my mouth were like a lime-kiln. 
She gave me a drink out of a china mug wi' 
gold letters — 'A Present from lyeeds, ' — as I 
looked at many and many a time after. 
'You're to lie still while Doctor Warbottom 
comes, because your arm's broken, an' father 
has sent a lad to fetch him. He found yo* 
when he was goin' to work, an' carried you 
here on his back,' sez she. 'Oa!' sez I; an' I 
shet my eyes, for I felt ashamed o' mysen. 
'Father's gone to his work these three hours, 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 107 

an' he said he'd tell 'em to get somebody to 
drive the train.' The clock ticked an' a bee 
corned in the house, an' they rung i' my head 
like mill wheels. An' she gave me another 
drink an' settled the pillow. 'Eh, but yo're 
young to be getten drunk an' such like, but 
yo' won't do it again, will yo'?' 'Noa, ' sez I. 
'I wouldn't if she'd not but stop they mill- 
wheels clatterin'.' " 

"Faith, it's a good thing to be nursed by a 
woman when you're sick!" said Mulvaney. 
"Dirt cheap at the price av twenty broken 
heads." 

Ortheris turned to frown across the valley. 
He had not been nursed by many women in 
his life. 

"An' then Doctor Warbottom comes ridin* 
up, an' Jesse Roantree along with 'im. He 
was a high-larned doctor, but he talked wi* 
poor folks same as theirsens. 'What's tha bin 
agaate on naa?' he sings out. 'Brekkin tha 
thick head?' An' he felt me all over. 'That's 
none broken. Tha' nobbut knocked a bit 
sillier than ordinary, an' that's daafteneaf. ' 
An' so he went on, callin* me all the names 
he could think on, but settin' my arm, wi' 
Jesse's help, as careful as could be. 'Yo' mun 
let the big oaf bide here a bit, Jesse, ' he says, 
when he had strapped me up an' given me a 
dose o' physic; 'an' you an* 'Liza will tend 
him, though he's scarcelins worth the trouble. 
An' tha'lllose tha work,' sez he, 'an' tha'll be 
upon th' Sick Club for a couple o' months an' 
more. Doesn't tha think tha's a fool?' " 



108 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

"But whin was a young man, high or low, 
the other av a fool, I'd like to know?" said 
Mulvaney. "Sure, folly's the only safe way 
to wisdom, for I've thried it. " ' 

"Wisdom!" grinned Ortheris, scanning his 
comrades with uplifted chin. "You're 
bloomin' Solomons, you two, ain't you?" 

Learoyd went calmly on, with a steady eye 
like an ox chewing the cud. "And that was 
how I comed to know 'Liza Roantree. There's 
some tunes as she used to sing — aw, she were 
always singin' — that fetches Greenhow Hill be- 
fore my eyes as fair as yon brow across there. 
And she would learn me to sing bass, an' I 
was to go to th' chapel wi' 'em, where Jesse 
and she led the singin', th' old man playin' the 
fiddle. He was a strange chap, old Jesse, fair 
mad wi' music, an' he made me promise to 
learn the big fiddle when my arm was better. 
It belonged to him, and it stood up in a big 
case alongside o' th' eight-day clock, but Willie 
Satterthwaite, as played it in the chapel, had 
getten deaf as a door-post, and it vexed Jesse, 
as he had to rap him ower his head wi' th' fid- 
dle-stick to make him give ower sawin* at th' 
right time. 

"But there was a black drop in it all, an' it 
was a man in a black coat that brought it. 
When th' Primitive Methodist preacher came 
to Greenhow, he would always stop wi' Jesse 
Roantree, an' he laid hold of me from th' be- 
ginning. It seemed I wor a soul to be saved, 
an* he meaned to do it. At th' same time I 
jealoused 'at he were keen o' savin' 'Liza 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 109 

Roantree's soul as well, an' I could ha' killed 
him many a time. An' this went on till one 
day I broke out, an' borrowed th' brass for a 
drink from 'Liza. After fower days I come 
back, wi' my tail between my legs, just to see 
'Liza again. But Jesse were at home, an' th' 
preacher — th' Reverend' Amos Barraclough. 
'Liza said naught, but a bit o' red come into 
her face as were white of a regular thing. 
Says Jesse, try in' his best to be civil : 'Nay, 
lad, it's like this. You've getten to choose 
which way it's goin' to be. I'll ha' nobody 
across ma doorsteps as goes a-drinkin', an' bor- 
rows my lass' money to spend i' their drink. 
Ho'd tha tongue, 'Liza,' sez he, when she 
wanted to put in a word 'at I were welcome to 
th' brass, an' she were none afraid that I 
wouldn't pay it back. Then the reverend 
cuts in, seein' as Jesse were losin' his temper, 
an' they fair beat me among them. But it 
were 'Liza, as looked an' said naught, as did 
more than either o' their tongues, an' soa I 
concluded to get converted." 

' ' F what ! ' ' shouted Mulvaney. Then, check- 
ing himself, he said, softly: *'Let be! Let be! 
Sure the Blessed Virgin is the mother of all 
religion an' most women; an' there's a deal 
av piety in a girl if the men would only let it 
stay there. I'd ha' ben converted myself under 
the circumstances." 

"Nay, but," pursued Learoyd, with a blush, 
*'I meaned it." 

Ortheris laughed as loudly as he dared, hav- 
ing regard to his business at the time. 



no ON GREENHOW HILL. 

"Ay, Ortheris, you may laugh, but you 
didn't know yon preacher Barraclough — a lit- 
tle white-faced chap wi' a voice as 'ud wile a 
bird off on a bush, and a way o* layin' hold o' 
folks as made them think they'd never had a 
live man for a friend before. You never saw 
him, an' — an' you never seed 'Liza Roantree — 
never seed 'Liza Roantree. . . . Happen it 
was as much 'Liza as th' preacher and her 
father, but anyways they all meaned it, an' I 
was fair ashamed o' mysen, an' so become 
what they called a changed character. And 
when I think on, it's hard to believe as yon 
chap going to prayer-meetin's, chapel, and 
class-meetin's were me. But I never had 
naught to say for mysen, though there was a 
deal o' shoutin', and old Sammy Strother, as 
were almost clemmed to death and doubled up 
with the rheumatics, would sing out, 'Joyful! 
joyful!' and 'at it were better to go up to 
heaven in a coal-basket than down to hell i' a 
coach an' six. And he would put his poor old 
claw on my shoulder, sayin' : 'Doesn't tha feel 
it, tha great lump? Doesn't tha feel it?' An' 
sometimes I thought I did, and then again I 
thought I didn't, an' how was that?" 

"The iverlastin' nature av mankind," said 
Mulvaney. "An', furthermore, I misdoubt 
you were built for the Primitive Methodians, 
They're a new corps anyways. I hold by the 
Ould Church, for she's the mother of them all 
— ay, an' the father, too. I like her bekase 
she's most remarkable regimental in her fit- 
tings. I may die in Honolulu, Nova Zambra, 



ON GREENHOW HILL. Ill 

or Cape Cayenne, but wherever I die, me bein' 
fwat I am, an* a priest handy, I go tinder the 
same orders an* the same words an* the same 
unction as tho* the pope himself come down 
from the dome av St. Peter's to see me off. 
There's neither high nor low, nor broad nor 
deep, not betwixt nor between with her, an* 
thatis what I like. But mark you, she's no 
manner av Church for a wake man, bekase she 
takes the body and the soul av him, onless he 
has his proper work to do. I remember when 
my father died, that was three months comin' 
to his grave; begad he'd ha' sold the sheebeen 
above our heads for ten minutes' quittance of 
purgathory. An' he did all he could. That's 
why I say it takes a strong man to deal with 
the Ould Church, an' for that reason you'll find 
so many women go there. An' that same's a 
conundrum." 

"Wot's the use o* worritin' 'bout these 
things?" said Ortheris. "You're bound to find 
all out quicker nor you want to, any'ow. " He 
jerked the cartridge out of the breech-lock into 
the palm of his hand. '* 'Ere's my chaplain," 
he said, and made the venomous black-headed 
bullet bow like a marionette. ** 'E's goin' 
to teach a man all about which is which, an' 
wot's true, after all, before sundown. But 
wot 'appened after that, Jock?" 

"There was one thing they boggled at, and 
almost shut th' gate i' my face for and that 
were my dog Blast, th' only one saved out o' 
a litter o' pups as was blowed up when a keg 
o' minin' powder loosed off in th' storekeeper's 



112 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

hut. They liked his name no better than his 
business, which was fightin* every dog he 
corned across ; a rare good dog, wi' spots o' black 
and pink on his face, one ear gone, and lame 
o' one side wi' being driven in a basket 
through an iron roof, a matter of half a mile. 

"They said I mun give him up 'cause he 
were worldly and low ; and would I let mysen 
be shut out of heaven for the sake of a dog? 
*Nay, ' says I, 'if th' door isn't wide enough for 
th' pair on us, we'll stop outside or we'll none 
be parted.' And th' preacher spoke up for 
Blast, as had a likin' for him from th' first — I 
reckon that was why I come to hke th' 
preacher — and wouldn't hear o' changin' his 
name to Bless, as some o' them wanted. So 
th' pair on us became reg'lar chapel members. 
But it's hard for a young chap o' my build to 
cut tracks from the world, th' flesh, an' the 
devil all av a heap. Yet I stuck to it for a 
long time, while th' lads as used to stand about 
th' town-end an' lean ower th' bridge, spitting 
into th' beck o' a Sunday, would call after me, 
*Sitha, Learoyd, when's tha bean to preach, 
'cause we're comin' to hear that.' 'Ho'd tha 
jaw! He hasn't getten th' white choaker on th' 
morn,* another lad would say, and I had to 
double my fists hard i' th' bottom of my Sun- 
day coat, and say to mysen, *If 'twere Monday 
and I warn't a member o' the Primitive Meth- 
odists, I'd leather all th' lot of yond'.' That 
was th' hardest of all — to know that I could 
fight and I mustn't fight." 

Sympathetic grunts from Mulvaney. 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 113 

"So what wi' singin', practicin', and class- 
meetin's, and th' big fiddle, as he made me 
take between my knees, I spent a deal o' time 
i* Jesse Roantree's house-place. But often as 
I was there, th' preacher fared to me to go 
oftener, and both th' old an' th' young woman 
were pleased to have him. He lived i' Pately 
Brigg, as were a goodish step off, but he 
come. I liked him as well or better as 
any man I'd ever seen i' one way, and 
yet I hated him- wi' all my heart i' t' other, 
and we watched each other like cat and mouse, 
but civil as you please, for I was on my best 
behavior, and he was that fair and open that 
I was bound to be fair with him. Rare and 
good company he was, if I hadn't wanted to 
wring his cliver little neck half of the time. 
Often and often when he was goin' from 
Jesse's I'd set him a bit on the road." 

"See 'im 'ome, you mean?" said Ortheris. 

"Aye. It's a way we have i' Yorkshire o' 
seein' friends off. Yon was a friend as I didn't 
want to come back and he didn't want me to 
come back neither, and so we'd walk together 
toward Pately, and then he'd set me back 
again, and there we'd be twal two i' o'clock 
the mornin' settin' each other to an' fro like a 
blasted pair o' pendulums twixt hill and valley, 
long after th' light had gone out i' 'Liza's 
window, as both on us had been looking at, 
pretending to watch the moon." 

"Ah!" broke in Mulvaney, "ye'd no chanst 
against the maraudin' psalm-singer. They'll 
take the airs and the graces, instid av the 

8 Ditties 



114 ON GREENHOW HILL, 

man, nine times out av ten, an' they only find 
the blunder later — the wimmen. " 

** That's just where yo're wrong," said 
Learoyd, reddening^ under the freckled tan of 
his cheek. *'I was th' first wi' Liza an' yo'd 
think that were enough. But th' parson were 
a steady-gaited sort o' chap and Jesse were 
strong on his side, and all th' women i' the 
congregation dinned it to 'Liza 'at she were 
fair fond to take up wi' a wastrel ne'er-doweel 
like me, as was scarcelins respectable and a 
fighting dog at his heels. It was all very well 
for her to be doing me good and saving my soul, 
but she must mind as she didn't do herself 
harm. They talk o' rich folk bein* stuck up 
an* genteel, but for cast-iron pride o' res- 
pectibility, there's naught like poor chapel 
folk. It's as cold as th' wind o' Greenhow Hill 
— aye, and colder, for 'twill never change. 
And now I come to think on it one of the 
strangest things I know is 'at they couldn't 
abide th' thought o' soldiering. There's a vast 
o' fightin' i' th' Bible, and there's a deal of 
Methodists i' th' army; but to hear chapel- 
folk talk yo'd think that solderin' were next 
door, an' t'other side, to hangin'. I' their 
meetin's all their talk is o' fightin'. When 
Sammy Strother were struk for summat to say 
in his prayers, he'd sing out: 'The sword o' 
th' Lord and o' Gideon.' They were alius at 
it about puttin' on th' whole armor o' right- 
eousness, an' fightin' the good fight o' faith. 
And then, atop o' 't all, they held a prayer- 
meetin' ower a young chap as wanted to 'list, 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 115 

and nearly deafened him till he picked up his 
hat and fair ran away. And they'd tell tales 
in the Sunday-school o' bad lads as had been 
thumped and brayed for bird-nesting o' Sun- 
days and playin' truant o' week-days, and how 
they took to wrestlin', dog-fighting', rabbit- 
runnin,' and drinkin', till at last, as if 'twere a 
hepitaph on a gravestone, they damned him 
across th' moors wi' it, an' then he went and 
'listed for a soldier, an' they'd all fetch a deep 
breath and throw up their eyes like a hen 
drinkin'." 

*'Fwhy is it?" said Mulvaney, bringing down 
his hands on his thigh with a crack. **In the 
name av God, fwhy is it? I've seen it, tu. 
They cheat an' they swindle, an' they lie, an' 
they slander, an' fifty things fifty times worse; 
but the last an' the worst, by their reckon^', 
is to serve the Widdy honest. It's like ^L:e 
talk av childer — seein' things all round. ^° 

"Plucky lot of fightin' good fights of whr.ts- 
ername they'd do if we didn't see they had a 
quiet place to fight in. And such fightin' as 
theirs is! Cats on the tiles. T'other callin' to 
which to come on. I'd give a month's pay to 
get some o' them broad-backed beggars in 
London sweatin' through a day's road-makin' 
an' a night's rain. They'd carry on a deal 
afterward — same as we're supposed to carry 
on. I've bin turned out of a measly *arf 
license pub. down Lambeth way, full o' greasy 
kebmen, 'fore now," said Ortheris with an 
oath. 



116 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

"Maybe you were dhrunk," said Mulvaney, 
soothingly. 

"Worse nor that. The Forders were drunk. 
I was wearin' the queen's uniform." 

"I'd not particular thought to be a soldier i' 
them days," said Learoyd, still keeping his eye 
on the bare hill opposite, "but his sort o' talk 
put it i' my head. They was so good, th' 
chapel folk, that they tumbled over t'other 
side. But I stuck to it for 'Liza's sake, 
specially as she was learning me to sing the 
bass part in a horotorio as Jesse were getting 
up. She sung like a throstle hersen, and we 
had practisin's night after night for a matter 
of three months." 

"I know what a horotorio is, " said Ortheris, 
pertly. "It's a sort of chaplain's sing-song — 
words all out of the Bible, and hullabaloojah 
choruses." 

"Most Greenhow Hill folks played some in- 
strument or t'other, an' they all sung so you 
might have heard them miles away, and they 
was so pleased wi' the noise they made they 
didn't fair to want anybody to listen. The 
preacher sung high seconds when he wasn't 
playin' the flute, an' they set me, as hadn't 
got far with big fiddle, again Willie Satterth- 
wai^e, to jog his elbow when he had to get a' 
gate playin'. Old Jesse was happy if ever a 
man was, for he were th' conductor an' th' first 
fiddle an' th' leadin' singer, beatin' time wi' 
his fiddle-stick, till at times he'd rap with it on 
the table, and cry out : 'Now, you mun all stop, 
it's my turn.' And he'd face round to his 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 117 

front, fair sweatin* wi' pride, to sing the tenor 
solos. But he were grandest i' th' chorus 
waggin' his head, flinging his arms round like 
a windmill, and singin' hisself black ia the 
face. A rare singer were Jesse. 

"Yo* see, I was not o' much account wi' 'em 
all exceptin' to Eliza Roantree, and I had a 
de^l o' time settin' quiet at meeting and horo- 
torio practices to hearken their talk, and if it 
were strange to me at beginnin', it got stranger 
still at after, when I was shut in, and could 
study what it meaned. 

'*Just after th' horotorios come off, 'Liza, 
as had alius been weakly like, was took very 
bad. I walked Doctor Warbottom's horse up 
and down a deal of times while he were inside, 
where they wouldn't let me go, though I fair 
ached to see her. 

" 'She'll be better i' noo, lad — better i' noo,' 
he used to say. 'Tha mun ha' patience.* 
Then they said if I was quiet I might go in, 
and th' Reverend Amos Barraclough used to 
read to her lyin' propped up among th' pillows. 
Then she began to mend a bit, and they let 
me carry her on th' settle, and when it got 
warm again she went about same as afore. 
Th' preacher and me and Blast was a deal 
together i' them days, and i' one way we was 
rare good comrades. But I could ha' stretched 
him time and again with a good-wiU. I mind 
one day he said he would like to go down into 
th' bowels o' th* earth, and see how th' Lord 
had builded th' framework o' the everlastin* 
hills. He was one of them chaps as had a gift 



118 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

o' sayin' things. They rolled off the tip of his 
clever tongue, same as Mulvaney here, as 
would ha' made a rale good preacher if he had 
nobbut given his mind to it. I lent him a suit 
o' miner's kit as almost buried th' little man, 
and his white face, down i' th' coat collar and 
hat flap, looked like the face of a boggart, and 
he cowered down i' th' bottom o' the wagon. 
I was drivin* a tram as led up a bit of an in- 
cline up to th' cave where the engine was 
pumpin', and where th' ore was brought up 
and put into th' wagons as went down o' them- 
selves, me piittin' th* brake on and th' horses 
a-trottin' after. Long as it was daylight we 
were good friends, but when we got fair into 
th' dark, and could nobbut see th' day shinin' 
at the hole like a lamp at a street end, I feeled 
downright wicked. My religion dropped all 
away from me when I looked back at him as 
were always comin' between me and Eliza. 
The talk was 'at they were to be wed when she 
got better, an' I couldn't ofet her to say yes or 
nay to it. He began to sing a hymn in his 
thin voice, and I came out wi* a chorus that 
was all cussin' an' swearin' at my horses, an' 
I began to know how I hated him. He were 
such a little chap, too. I could drop him wi' 
one hand down Garstang's copperhole — a place 
where th' beck slithered ower th' edge on a 
rock, and fell wi' a bit of a whisper into a pit 
as rope i' Greenhow could plump." 

Again Learoyd rooted up the innocent vio- 
lets. **Aye, he should see th' bowels o' th* 
earth an' never naught else. I could take him 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 119 

a mile or two along th* drift, and leave him 
wi' his candle doused to cry hallelujah, wi' 
none to hear him and say amen. I was to lead 
him down the ladderway to th* drift where 
Jesse Roantree was workin', and why shouldn't 
he slip on th' ladder, wi' my feet on his fingers 
till they loosed grip, and I put him down wi' 
m^ heel? If I went fust down th' ladder, I 
could click hold on him and chuck him over my 
head, so as he should go squashin' down the 
shaft, breakin' his bones at ev'ry timberin', as 
Bill Appleton did when he was fresh, and 
hadn't a bone left when he brought to th' bot- 
tom. Niver a blasted leg to walk from Pately. 
Niver 'an ar to put round 'Liza Roantree's 
waist. Niver no more — niver no more. ' ' 

The thick lips curled back over the yellow 
teeth, and that flushed face was not pretty to 
look upon. Mulvaney nodded sympathy, and 
Ortheris, luoved by his comrade's passion, 
jrought up the rifle to his shoulder, and 
searched the hillsides for his quarry, mutter- 
ing ribaldry about a sparrow, a spout, and a 
thunder-storm. The voice of the water-course 
supplied the necessary small-talk till Learoyd 
picked up his story. 

"But it's none so easy to kill a man like you. 
When I'd give up my horses to th' lad as took 
my place, and I was shov/iii' th' preacher th* 
workin 's, shoutin' into Iiis ear across th* clang 
o' th* pumpin* engines, I sav; ho was afraid o* 
naught; and when the lamp-light showed his 
black eyes, I could feel as he was masterin* 
me again. I were no better nor Blast chained 



120 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

Up short and growlin' i' the depths of him 
while a strange dog went safe past. 

" 'Th'art a coward and a fool,' I said to 
mysen; an' wrestled i' my mind again' him 
till, when we come to Garstang's copper-hole, 
I laid hold o' the preacher and lifted him up 
over my head and held him into the darkest 
on it. 'Now, lad,' I says, 'it's to be one or 
t'other on us — thee or me — for 'Liza Roantree. 
Why, isn't thee afraid for thysen?' I says, for 
he were still i' my arms as a sack. 'Nay; I'm 
but afraid for thee, my poor lad, as knows 
naught,* says he. I set him down on th* edge, 
an' th* beck run stiller, an' there was no more 
buzzin' in my head like when th' bee come 
through th* window o' Jesse's house. *What 
dost tha mean?' says I. 

" 'I've often thought as thou ought to 
know," says he, *buj 'twas hard to tell thee. 
'Liza Roantree 's for neither ou us, nor for 
nobody o' this earth. Doctor Warbottom says 
< — and he knows her, and her mother before 
her — that she is in a decline, and she cannot 
live six months longer. He's known it for 
many a day. Steady, John! Steady!' says 
he. And that weal: little man pulled me fur- 
ther back and set me again' him, and talked it 
all over quiet and still, me turnin' a bunch 'o 
candles in my hand, and counting them ower 
and ower again as I listened. A deal on it 
were th' regular preachin' talk, but there 
were a vast lot as made me begin to think as 
he were more of a man than I'd ever given 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 121 

him credit for, till I were cut as deep for him 
as I were for mysen. 

*'Six candles we had, and we crawled and 
climbed all that day while they lasted, and I 
said to mysen: * 'Liza Roantree hasn't six 
months to live.' And when we came into th' 
daylight again we were like dead men to look 
at„an' Blast come behind us without so much 
as waggin' his tail. When I saw 'Liza again 
she looked at me a minute and says: 'Who's 
telled tha? For I see tha knows.' And she 
tried to smile as she kissed me, and I fair broke 
down. 

**You see, I was a young chap i' them days, 
and had seen naught o' life, let alone death, 
as is alius a-waitin'. She telled me as Doctor 
Warbottom said as Greenhow air was too 
keen, and they were goin' to Bradford, to 
Jesse's brother David, as worked i' a mill, and 
I mun hold up like a man and a Christian, and 
she'd pray for me well; and they went away, 
and the preacher that same back end o' the 
year were appointed to another circuit, as they 
call it, and I were left alone on Greenhow Hill. 

*'I tried, and I tried hard, to stick to tli* 
chapel, but 'tweren't tli' same thing at all 
after. I hadn't 'Liza's voice to follow i' th' 
singin', nor her eyes a-shinin' acrost their 
heads. And i' th' class-meetings they said as 
I mun have some experiences to tell, and I 
hadn't a word to say for mysen. 

"Blast and me moped a good deal, and hap- 
pen we didn't behave ourselves over well, for 
they dropped us, and wondered however they'd 



1-2 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

come to take us up. I can't tell how we got 
through th' time, while i* th' winter I gave up 
my job and went to Bradford. Old Jesse were 
at th' door o' th' house, in a long street o' lit- 
tle houses. He'd been sendin' th' children, 
'way as were clatterin'. their clogs in th' case- 
way, for she were asleep. 

'* *Is it thee?' he says; 'but you're not to see 
her. I'll none have her wakened for a nowt 
like thee. She's goin' fast, and she mun go in 
peace. Thou 'It never be good for naught i' 
th' world, and as long as thou lives thou'll 
never play the big fiddle. Get away, lad, get 
away!' So he shut the door softly i' my face. 

"Nobody never made Jesse my master, but 
it seemed to me he was about right, an' I went 
away into the town and knocked up against a 
recruiting sergeant. The old tales o' th* 
chapel folk came buzzin' into my head. I was 
to get away, and this were th' regular road for 
the likes o' me. I *listed there an* then, took 
th' Widow's shillin', and had a bunch o* rib- 
bons pinned i' my hat. 

"But next day I found my way to David 
Roantree's door, and Jesse came to open it. 
Says he: 'Thou's come back again wi' th' 
devil's colors flyin' — thy true colors, as I 
always telled thee. ' 

**But I begged and prayed of him to let me 
see her nobbut to say good-by, till a woman 
calls down th' stairway — she says, *John Lea- 
royd's to come up.' Th' old man shift aside 
in a flash, and lays his hand on my arm, quite 
gentle like. 'But thou'lt be quiet, John,' says 



ON GREENHOW HILL. 123 

he, 'for she's rare and weak. Thou wast alius 
a good lad. ' 

'*Her eyes were alive wi' light, and her hair 
was thick on the pillow round her, but her 
cheeks were thin — thin to frighten a man 
that's strong. 'Nay, father, yo' mayn't say 
th' devil's colors. Them ribbons is pretty.' 
An* she held out her hands for th* hat, an* she 
put all straight as a woman will wi' ribbons. 
*Nay, but what they're pretty,' she says. 
*Eh, but I'd ha' liked to see thee i' thy red 
coat, John, for thou wast alius my own lad — my 
very own lad, and none else. ' 

"She lifted up her arms, and they came 
round my neck i' a gentle grip, and they 
slacked away, and she seemed fainting. 'Now 
yo' mun get away, lad,' says Jesse, and I 
picked up my hat and I came downstairs. 

**Th* recruiting sergeant were waitin' for me 
at th* corner public-house. 'Yo've sen your 
sweetheart?' says he. 'Yes, I've seen her,' 
says I. 'Well, we'll have a quart now, and 
you'll do your best to forget her,* says he, 
bein' one o' them smart, bustlin' chaps. 'Aye, 
sergeant,' says I. 'Forget her.' And I've 
been forgettin' her ever since." 

He threw away the wilted clump of white 
violets as he spoke. Ortheris suddenly rose to 
his knees, his rifle at his shoulder, and peered 
across the valley in the clear afternoon light. 
His chin cuddled the stock, and there was a 
twitching of the muscles of the right cheek as 
he sighted. Private Stanley Ortheris was 



124 ON GREENHOW HILL. 

engaged on his business. A speck of white 
crawled up the water-course. 

"See that beggar? Got 'im." 

Seven hundred yards away and a full two 
hundred down the hillside, the deserter of the 
Aurangabadis pitched forward, rolled down a 
red rock, and lay very still, with his face in a 
clump of blue gentians, while a big raven 
flapped out of the pine wood to make investi- 
gation. 

"That's a clean shot, little man," said Mul- 
vaney. 

Learoyd thoughtfully watched the smoke 
clear away. 

"Happen there was a lass tewed up wi' him, 
too," said he. Ortheris did not reply. He 
was staring across the valley, with the smile of 
the artist who looks on the completed work. 
For he saw that it was good. 



BIMI. 

The orang-outang in the big iron cage lashed 
to 'the sheep-pen began the discussion. The 
night was stiflingly hot. and as Hans Breitmann 
and I passed him, dragging our bedding to the 
fore-peak of the steamer, he roused himself 
and chattered obscenely. He had been caught 
somewhere in the Malayan Archipelago, and 
was going to England to be exhibited at a shil- 
ling a head. For four days he had struggled, 
yelled, and wrenched at the heavy iron bars of 
his prison without ceasing, and had nearly slain 
a Lascar incautious enough to come within 
reach of the great hairy paw. 

'*It would be well for you, mine friend, if 
you was a liddle seasick," said Hans Breit- 
mann, pausing by the cage. "You haf too 
much Ego in your Cosmos. ' ' 

The orang-outang's arm slid out negligently 
from between the bars. No one would have 
believed that it would make a sudden snake- 
like rush at the German's breast. The thin 
silk of the sleeping-suit tore out : Hans stepped 
back unconcernedly, to pluck a banana from a 
bunch hanging close to one of the boats. 

"Too much Ego," said he, peeling the fruit 
and offering it to the caged devil, who was 
rending the silk to tatters. 

125 



126 BIMI. 

Then we laid out our bedding in the bows, 
among the sleeping Lascars, to catch any 
breeze that the pace of the ship might give us. 
The sea was like smoky oil, except where it 
turned to fire under our forefoot and whirled 
back into the dark in smears of dull flame. 
There was a thunder-storm some miles away; 
we could see the glimmer of the lightning. 
The ship's cow, distressed by the heat and the 
smell of the ape-beast in the cage, lowed un- 
happily from time to time in exactly the same 
key as the lookout man at the bows answered 
the hourly call from the bridge. The tramp- 
ling tune of the engines was very distinct, and 
the jarring of the ash-lift, as it was tipped into 
the sea, hurt the procession of hushed noise. 
Hans lay down by my side and lighted a 
good-night cigar. This was naturally the be- 
ginning of conversation. He owned a voice as 
soothing as the wash of the sea, and stores of 
experiences as vast as the sea itself; for his 
business in life was to wander up and down 
the world, collecting orchids and wild beasts 
and ethnological specimens for German and 
American dealers. I watched the glowing end 
of his cigar wax and wane in the gloom, as the 
sentences rose and fell, till I was nearly asleep. 
The orang-outang, troubled by some dream 
of the forests of his freedom, began to yell like 
a soul in purgatory, and to wrench madly at 
the bars of the cage. 

"If he was out now dere would not be much 
of us left, hereabouts," said Hans lazily. ''He 



BIMI. 127 

screams good. See, now, how I shall tame 
him when he stops himself." 

There was a pause in the outcry, and from 
Hans' mouth came an imitation of a snake's 
hiss, so perfect that I almost sprung to my 
feet. The sustained murderous sound ran 
along the deck, and the wrenching at the bars 
ceased. The orang-outang was quaking in an 
ecstasy of pure terror. 

"Dot stop him," said Hans. "I learned dot 
trick in Mogoung Tanjong when I was collect- 
ing liddle monkeys for some peoples in Berlin. 
Efery one in der world is afraid of der mon- 
keys — except der snake. So I blay snake 
against monkey, and he keep quite still. Dere 
was too much Ego in his Cosmos. Dot is 
der soul-custom of monkeys. Are you asleep, 
or will you listen, and I will tell a dale dot you 
shall not pelief?" 

*'There's no tale in the wide world that I 
can't believe," I said. 

*'If you have learned pelief you haf learned 
somedings. Now I shall try your pelief. 
Good! When I was collecting dose liddle 
monkeys — it was in '79 or '80, und I was in 
der islands of der Archipelago— over dere in 
der dark"— he pointed southward to New 
Guinea generally — *' Mein Gott! I would 
sooner collect life red devils than liddle 
monkeys. When dey do not bite off your 
thumbs der are always dying from nostalgia — 
home-sick — for dey haf der imperfect soul, 
which is midway arrested in defelopment — und 
too much Ego. I was dere for nearly a year, 



128 BIMI. 

und dere I found a man dot was called Bert- 
ran. He was a Frenchman, und he was a goot 
man — naturalist to the bone. Dey said he was 
an escaped convict, but he was a naturalist, 
und dot was enough for me. He would call 
all her life beasts from der forest, und dey 
would come. I said he was St. Francis of 
Assisi in a new dransmigration produced, und 
he laughed und said he haf never preach to 
der fishes. He sold them for tripang — beche' 
de-mer. 

"Und dot man, who was king of beasts- 
tamer men, he had in der house shush such 
anoder as dot devil-animal in der cage — a great 
orang-outang dot thought he was a man. He 
haf found him when he was a child — der orang- 
outang — und he was child and brother and 
opera comique all round to Bertran. He had 
his room in dot house — not a cage, but a room 
— mit a bed and sheets, and he would go to bed 
and get up in der morning and smoke his cigar 
und eat his dinner mit Bertran, und walk mit 
him hand-in-hand, which was most horrible. 
Herr Gott! I haf seen dot beast throw him- 
self back in his chair and laugh when Bertran 
haf made fun of me. He was not a beast; he 
was a man, and he talked to Bertran, und 
Bertran comprehended, for I have seen dem. 
Und he was always politeful to me except 
when I talk too long to Bertran und say nod- 
dings at all to him. Den he would pull me 
awa — dis great, dark devil, mit his enormous 
paws — shush as if I was a child. He was not 
a beast, he was a man. Dis I saw pefore I 



BIMI. 129 

know him three months, und Bertran he haf 
saw the same; and Bimi, der orang-outang, 
haf understood us both, mit his cigar between 
his big-dog teeth und der blue gum. 

'*I was dere a year, dere und at der oder 
islands — somedimes for monkeys and some- 
dimes for butterflies and orchits. One time 
Bertran say to me dot he will be married, 
because he haf found a girl dot was goot, 
and he inquire if this marrying idea was right. 
I would not say, pecause it was not me dot 
was going to be married. Den he go off court- 
ing der girl — she was a half-caste French girl 
— very pretty. Haf you got a new light for 
my cigar? Oof! Very pretty. Only I say: 
Haf you thought of Bimi? If he pulls me 
away when I talk to you, what will he do to 
your wife? He will pull her in pieces. If I 
was you, Bertran, I would gif my wife for wed- 
ding present der stuff figure of Bimi. ' By dot 
time I had learned somedings about der mon- 
key peoples. * Shoot him?* says Bertran. 'He 
is your beast,' I said; 'if he was mine he would 
be shot now.' 

"Den I felt at der back of my neck der fin- 
gers of Bimi. Mein Gott! I tell you dot he 
talked through dose fingers. It was der deaf- 
and-dumb alphabet all gomplete. He slide his 
hairy arm round my neck, and he tilt up my 
chin und look into my face, shust to see if I 
understood his talk so well as he understood 
mine. 

" *See now dere!' says Bertran, *und you 

9 Ditties 



130 BIMI. 

would shoot him while he is cuddling you? 
Dot is der Teuton ingrate!* 

**But I knew dot I had made Bimi a life's 
enemy, pecause his fingers haf talk murder 
through the back of my neck. Next dime I 
see Bimi dere was a pistol in my belt, und he 
touch it once, and I open der breech to show 
him it was loaded. He haf seen der liddle 
monkeys killed in der woods, and he understood. 

*'So Bertran he was married, and he forgot 
clean about Bimi dot was skippin' alone on der 
beach mit der half of a human soul in his belly. 
I was see him skip, und he took a big bough und 
thrash der sand till he haf made a great hole 
like a grave. So I says to Bertran: 'For any 
sakes, kill Bimi. He is mad mit der jealousy. ' 

** Bertran haf said: 'He is not mad at all. 
He haf obey and love my wife, und if she 
speaks he will get her slippers,* und he looked 
at his wife across der room. She was a very 
pretty girl. 

"Den I said to him: 'Dost thou pretend to 
know monkeys und dis beast dot is lashing 
himself mad upon der sands, pecause you do 
not talk to him? Shoot him when he comes to 
der house, for he haf der light in his eyes dot 
means killing — und killing. ' Bimi come to der 
house, but dere was no light in his eyes. It 
was all put away, cunning — so cunning — und 
he fetch der girl her slippers, and Bertran turn 
to me und say: 'Dost thou know him in nine 
months more dan I haf known him in twelve 
years? Shall a child stab his fader? I have fed 



BIMI. 131 

him, und he was my child. Do not speak this 
nonsense to my wife or to me any more. ' 

*'Dot next day Bertran came to my house to 
help me make some wood cases for der speci- 
mens, und he tell me dot he haf left his wife a 
liddle while mit Bimi in der garden. Den I 
finish my cases quick, und I say : ' Let us go to 
your house und get a trink. ' He laugh und 
say: 'Come along, dry mans.* 

"His wife was not in der garden, und Bimi 
did not come when Bertran called. Und his 
wife did not come when he called, und he 
knocked at her bedroom door und dot was shut 
tight — locked. Den he look at me, und his 
face was white. I broke down her door mit 
my shoulder, und der thatch of der roof was 
torn into a great hole, und der sun came in 
upon der floor. Haf you ever seen paper in 
der waste-basket, or cards at whist on der table 
scattered? Dere was no wife dot could be seen. 
I tell you dere was noddings in dot room dot 
might be a woman. Dere was stuff on der 
floor, und dot was all. I looked at dese things 
und I was very sick; but Bertran looked a 
liddle longer at what was upon the floor und 
der walls, und der hole in der thatch. Den he 
pegan to laugh, soft and low, und I knew und 
thank Gott dot he was mad. He nefer cried, 
he nefer prayed. He stood still in der doorway 
und laugh to himself. Den he said: 'She haf 
locked herself in dis room, and he haf torn up 
der thatch. Fi done. Dot is so. We will 
mend der thatch und wait for Bimi. He will 
surelv come. * 



132 BIMI. 

"I tell you we waited ten days in dot house, 
after der room was made into a room again, 
and once or twice we saw Bimi comin' a liddle 
way from der woods. He was afraid pecause 
he haf done wrong. Bertran called him when 
he was come to look on the tenth day, und Bimi 
come skipping along der beach und making 
noises, mit a long piece of black hair in his 
hands. Den Bertran laugh and say, ''Fi doncT 
shust as if it was a glass broken upon der table ; 
und Bimi come nearer, und Bertran was 
honey-sweet in his voice and laughed to him- 
self. For three days he made love to Bimi, 
pecause Bimi would not let himself be touched. 
Den Bimi come to dinner at der same table mit 
us, und der hair on his hands was all black und 
thick mit — mit what had dried on his hands. 
Bertran gave him sangaree till Bimi was drunk 
and stupid, und den 

Hans paused to puff at his cigar. 

"And then?" said I. 

*'Und den Bertran kill him with his hands, 
und I go for a walk upon der beach. It was 
Bertran's own piziness. When I come back 
der ape he was dead, und Bertran he was dying 
abofe him; but still he laughed a liddle und 
low, and he was quite content. Now you know 
der formula of der strength of der orang-outang 
— it is more as seven to one in relation to man. 
But Bertran, he haf killed Bimi mit sooch 
dings as Gott gif him. Dot was der mericle. " 

The infernal clamor in the cage recom- 
menced. *'Aha! Dot friend of ours haf still 
too much Ego in his Cosmos. Be quiet, thou!" 



BIMI. 133 

Hans hissed long and venomously. We could 
hear the great beast quaking in his cage. 

"But why in the world didn't 5^ou help Bert- 
ran instead of letting him be killed?" I asked. 

"My friend, " said Hans, composedly stretch- 
ing himself to slumber, "it was not nice even 
to gaineself dot I should lif after I had seen dot 
room wit der hole in der thatch. Und Bert- 
ran, he was her husband. Goot-night, und 
sleep well. ' * 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 



Once upon a time there was a king who lived 
on the road to Thibet, very many miles in the 
Himalaya Mountains. His kingdom was i i,ooo 
feet above the sea, and exactly four miles 
square, but most of the miles stood on end, 
owing to the nature of the country. His rev- 
enues were rather less than ;£'4oo yearly, and 
they were expended on the maintenance of one 
elephant and a standing army of five men. He 
was tributary to the Indian government, who 
allowed him certain sums for keeping a 
section of the Himalaya-Thibet road in repair. 
He further increased his revenues by selling 
timber to the railway companies, for he would 
cut the great deodar trees in his own forest and 
they fell thundering into the Sutlej River and 
were swept down to the Plains, 300 miles away, 
and became railway ties. Now and again this 
king, whose name does not matter, would 
mount a ring-streaked horse and ride scores of 
miles to Simlatown to confer with the lieuten- 
ant-governor on matters of state, or assure the 
viceroy that his sword was at the service of the 
queen-empress. Then the viceroy would cause 
a ruffle of drums to be sounded and the ring- 
streaked horse and the cavalrv of the state — 

134 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 135 

two men in tatters — and the herald who bore 
the Silver Stick before the king would trot back 
to their own place, which was between the tail 
of a heaven-climbing glacier and a dark birch 
forest. 

Now, from such a king, always remembering 
that he possessed one veritable elephant and 
coufd count his descent for 1,200 years, I 
expected, when it was my fate to wander 
through his dominions, no more than mere 
license to live. 

The night had closed in rain, and rolling 
clouds blotted out the lights of the villages in 
the valley. Forty miles away, untouched by 
cloud or storm, the white shoulder of Dongo 
Pa — the Mountain of the Council of the Gods 
— upheld the evening star. The monkeys sung 
sorrowfully to each other as they hunted for 
dry roots in the fern-draped trees, and the last 
puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen 
villages the scent of damp wood smoke, hot 
cakes, dripping undergrowth, and rotting pine- 
cones. That smell is the true smell of the 
Himalayas, and if it once gets into the blood 
of a man he will, at the last, forgetting every- 
thing else, return to the Hills to die. The 
clouds closed and the smell went away, and 
there remained nothing in all the world except 
chilling white mists and the boom of the Sutlej 
River. 

A fat-tailed sheep, who did not want to die, 
bleated lamentably at my tent-door. He was 
scuffling with the prime minister and the direc- 
tor-general of public education, and he was a 



136 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

royal gift to me and my camp servants. I 
expressed my thanks suitably and inquired if I 
might have audience of the king. The prime 
minister re-adjusted his turban — it had fallen 
off in the struggle — and assured me that the 
king would be very pleased to see me. There- 
fore I dispatched two bottles as a foretaste, and 
when the sheep had entered upon another 
incarnation, climbed up to the king's palace 
through the wet. He had sent his army to 
escort me, but it stayed to talk with my cook. 
Soldiers are very much alike all the world 
over. 

The palace was a four-roomed, white-washed 
mud-and-timber house, the finest in all the 
Hills for a day's journey. The king was 
dressed in a purple velvet jacket, white muslin 
trousers, and a saiforn-yellow turban of price. 
He gave me audience in a little carpeted room 
opening off the palace court-yard, which was 
occupied by the elephant of state. The great 
beast was sheeted and anchored from trunk to 
tail, and the curve of his back stood out against 
the sky line. 

The prime minister and the director-general 
of public instruction were present to introduce 
me ; but all the court had been dismissed lest 
the two bottles aforesaid should corrupt their 
morals. The king cast a wreath of heavy, 
scented flowers round my neck as I bowed, and 
inquired how my honored presence had the 
felicity to be. I said that through seeing his 
auspicious countenance the mists of the night 
had turned into sunshine, and that by reason 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 137 

of his beneficent sheep his good deeds would 
be remembered by the gods. He said that 
since I had set my magnificent foot in his king- 
dom the crops would probably yield seventy 
per cent, more than the average. I said that 
the fame of the king had reached to the four 
corners of the earth, and that the nations 
gnashed their teeth when they heard daily of 
the glory of his realm and the wisdom of his 
moon-like prime minister and lotus-eyed direc- 
tor-general of public education. 

Then we sat down on clean white cushions, 
and I was at the king's right hand. Three 
minutes later he was telling me that the condi- 
tion of the maize crop was something disgrace- 
ful, and that the railway companies would not 
pay him enough for his timber. The talk 
shifted to and fro with the bottles. We dis- 
cussed very many quaint things, and the king 
became confidential on the subject of govern- 
ment generally. Most of all he dwelt on the 
short-comings of one of his subjects, who, from 
what I could gather, had been paralyzing the 
executive. 

"In the old days,'* said the king, **I could 
have ordered the elephant yonder to trample 
him to death. Now I must e'en send him 
seventy miles across the hills to be tried, and 
his keep for that time would be upon the state. 
And the elephant eats everything. " 

"What be the man's crimes, Rajah Sahib?" 
said I. 

"Firstly, he's an 'outlander, ' and no man of 
mine own people. Secondly, since of my favor 



138 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

I gave him land upon his coming, he refuses 
to pay revenue. Am I not the lord of the 
earth, above and below — entitled by right and 
custom to one-eighth of the crop? Yet this 
devil, -establishing himself, refuses to pay a 
single tax . . . and he brings a poisonous 
spawn of babies." 

"Cast him into jail," I said. 

'* Sahib," the king answered, shifting a little 
on the cushions, "once and only once in these 
forty years sickness came upon me so that I 
was not able to go abroad. In that hour I 
made a vow to my God that I would never 
again cut man or woman from the light of the 
sun and the air of God, for I perceived the 
nature of the punishment. How can I break 
my vow? Were it only the lopping off of a 
hand or a foot, I should not delay. But even 
that is impossible now that the English have 
rule. One or another of my people" — he 
looked obliquely at the director-general of pub- 
lic education — "would at once write a letter to 
the viceroy, and perhaps I should be deprived 
of that ruffle of drums." 

He unscrewed the mouthpiece of his silver 
water-pipe, fitted a plain amber one, and passed 
the pipe to me. "Not content with refusing 
revenue," he continued, "this outlander re- 
fuses also to beegar" (this is the corvee or 
forced lahor on the roads), "and stirs my 
people up to the like treason. Yet he is, if so 
he wills, an expert log-snatcher. There is none 
better or bolder among my people to clear a 
block of the river when the logs stick fast." 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 139 

*'But he worships strange gods," said the 
prime minister, deferentially. 

"For that I have no concern," said the king, 
who was as tolerant as Akbar in matters of be- 
lief. **To each man his own god, and the fire 
or Mother Earth for us all at the last. It is 
the rebellion that offends me." 

"The king has an army," I suggested. 
**Has not the king burned the man's house, 
and left him naked to the night dews?" 

"Nay. A hut is a hut, and it holds the life 
of a 'man. But once I sent my army against 
him when his excuses became wearisome. Of 
their heads he brake three across the top with 
a stick. The other two men ran away. Also 
the guns would not shoot. ' * 

I had seen the equipment of the infantry. 
One-third of it was an old muzzle-loading fowl- 
ing-piece with ragged rust holes where the nip- 
ples should have been ; one-third a wire-bound 
matchlock with a worm-eaten stock, and one- 
third a four-bore flint duck gun, without a flint. 

"But it is to be remembered," said the 
king, reaching out for the bottle, "that he is a 
very expert log-snatch er and a man of a merry 
face. What shall I do to him, sahib?" 

This was interesting. The timid hill-folk 
would as soon have refused taxes to their king 
as offerings to their gods. The rebel must be 
a man of character. 

"If it be the king's permission," I said, "I 
will not strike my tents till the third day, and 
I will see this man The mercy of the king is 
godlike, and rebellion is like unto the sin of 



140 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

witchcraft. Moreover, both the bottles, and 
another, be empty." 

"You have my leave to go," said the king. 

Next morning the crier went through the 
state proclaiming that there was a log-jam on 
the river and that it behooved all loyal sub- 
jects to clear it. The people poured down 
from their villages to the moist, warm valley 
of poppy fields, and the king and I went with 
them. 

Hundreds of dressed deodar logs had caught 
on a snag of rock, and the river was bringing 
down more logs every minute to complete the 
blockade. The water snarled and vv^renched 
and worried at the timber, while the popula- 
tion of the state prodded at the nearest logs 
with poles, in the hope of easing the pressure. 
Then there went up a shout of ' ' Namgay Doola, 
Namgay Doola!" and a large, red-haired vil- 
lager hurried up, stripping off his clothes as he 
ran. 

"That is he. That is the rebel!" said the 
king. "Now will the dam be cleared." 

"But why has he red hair?" I asked, since 
red hair among hill-folk is as uncommon as blue 
or green. 

" He is an outlander, ' ' said the king. "Well 
done! Oh, well done'" 

Namgay Doola had scrambled on the jam 
and was clawing out the butt of a log with a 
rude sort of a boat-hook. It slid forward 
slowly, as an alligator moves, and three or four 
others followed it. The green water spouted 
through the gaps. Then the villagers howled 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 141 

and shouted and leaped among the logs, pull- 
ing and pushing the obstinate timber, and the 
red head of Namgay Doola was chief among 
them all. The logs swayed and chafed and 
groaned as fresh consignments from up-stream 
battered the now weakening dam. It gave 
way at last in a smother of foam, racing butts, 
bobtiing black heads, and a confusion inde- 
scribable, as the river tossed everything be- 
fore it. I saw the red head go down with the 
last remnants of the jam and disappear be- 
tween the great grinding tree trunks. It rose 
close to the bank, and blowing like a grampus, 
Namgay Doola wiped the water out of his eyes 
and made obeisance to the king. 

I had time to observe the man closely. The 
virulent redness of his shock head and beard 
was most startling, and in the thicket of hair 
twinkled above high cheek-bones two very 
merry blue eyes. He was indeed an out- 
lander, but yet a Thibetan in language, habit, 
and attire. He spoke the Lepcha dialect 
with an indescribable softening of the gut- 
turals. It was not so much a lisp as an accent. 

"Whence comest thou?" I asked, wondering. 

* ' From Thibet. ' * He pointed across the hills 
and grinned. That grin went straight to my 
heart. Mechanically I held out my hand, and 
Namgay Doola took it. No pure Thibetan 
would have understood the meaning of the 
gesture. He went away to look for his clothes, 
and as he climbed back to his village, I heard 
a joyous yell that seemed unaccountably fami- 
liar. It was the whooping of Namgay Doola. 



142 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

"You see now, " said the king, "why I would 
not kill him. He is a bold man among my 
logs, but, ' ' and he shook his head like a school- 
master, "I know that before long there will 
be complaints of him in the court. Let us re- 
turn to the palace and do justice." 

It was that king's custom to judge his sub- 
jects every day between eleven and three 
o'clock. I heard him do justice equitably on 
weighty matters of trespass, slander, and a little 
wife-stealing. Then his brow clouded and he 
summoned me. 

"Again it is Namgay Doola," he said, 
despairingly. "Not content with refusing 
revenue on his own part, he has bound half his 
village by an oath to the like treason. Never 
before has such a thing befallen me! Nor 
are my taxes heavy." 

A rabbit-faced villager, with a blush-rose 
stuck behind his ear, advanced trembling. He 
had been in Namgay Doola's conspiracy, but 
had told everything and hoped for the king's 
favor. 

"Oh, king!" said I, "if it be the king's will, 
let this matter stand over till the morning. 
Only the gods can do right in a hurry, and it 
may be that yonder villager has lied." 

"Nay, for I know the nature of Nam^gay 
Doola ; but since a guest asks, let the matter 
remain. Wilt thou, for my sake, speak harshly 
to this red-headed outlander? He may listen 
to thee." 

I made an attempt that very evening, but for 
the life of me I could not keep my counten- 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 143 

ance. Namgay Doola grinned so persuasively 
and began to tell me about a big brown bear 
in a poppy field by the river. Would I care to 
shoot that bear? I spoke austerely on the sin 
of detected conspiracy and the certainty of 
punishment. Namgay Doola's face clouded 
for a moment. Shortly afterward he with- 
drew from my tent, and I heard him singing 
softly among the pines. The words were un- 
intelligible to me, but the tune, like his 
liquid, insinuating speech, seemed the ghost 
of something strangely familiar. 

"Dir hane mard-i-yemen dir 
To weeree ala gee, ' ' 

crooned Namgay Doola again and again, and 
I racked my brain for that lost tune. It was 
not till after dinner that I discovered some one 
had cut a square foot of velvet from the center 
of my best camera cloth. This made me so 
angry that I wandered down the valley in the 
hope of meeting the big brown bear. I could 
hear him grunting like a discontented pig in 
the poppy field as I waited shoulder deep in 
the dew-dripping Indian corn to catch him after 
his meal. The moon was at full and drew out 
the scent of the tasseled crop. Then I heard 
the anguished bellow of a Himalayan cow — 
one of the little black crummies no bigger than 
Newfoundland dogs. Two shadows that 
looked like a bear and her cufe hurried past 
me. I was in the act of firing when I saw 
that each bore a brilliant red head. The lesser 



144 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

animal was trailing something rope-like that 
left a dark track on the path. They were 
within six feet of me, and the shadow of the 
moonlight lay velvet-black on their faces. 
Velvet-black was exactly the word, for by all 
the powers of moonlight they were masked in 
the velvet of my camera-cloth. I marveled, 
and went to bed. 

Next morning the kingdom was in an uproar. 
Namgay Doola, men said, had gone forth in 
the night and with a sharp knife had cut off 
the tail of a cow belonging to the rabbit-faced 
villager who had betrayed him. It was sacri- 
lege unspeakable against the holy cow! The 
state desired his blood, but he had retreated 
into his hut, barricaded the doors and windows 
with big stones, and defied the world. 

The king and I and the populace approached 
the hut cautiously. There was no hope of 
capturing our man without loss of life, for 
from a hole in the wall projected the muzzle 
of an extremely well-cared-for gun — the only 
gun in the state that could shoot. Namgay 
Doola had narrowly missed a villager just be- 
fore we came up. 

The standing army stood. 

It could do no more, for when it advanced 
pieces of sharp shale flew from the windows. 
To these were added from time to time show- 
ers of scalding water. We saw red heads bob- 
bing up and down within. The family of 
Namgay Doola were aiding their sire. Blood- 
curdling yells of defiance were the only answer 
to our prayers. 




*Wop! wop! wop! went a volley of musketry" — Page 10. 

Departmental Ditties. 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 145 

* 'Never," said the king, puffing, "has such a 
thing befallen my state. Next year I will 
certainly buy a little cannon. ' ' He looked at 
me imploringly. 

'*Is there any priest in the kingdom to whom 
he will listen?" said I, for a light was begin- 
ning to break upon me. 

**5e worships his own god," said the prime 
minister. "We can but starve him out. " 

"Let the white man approach," said Nam- 
gay Doola from within. "All others I will 
kill. Send me the white man." 

The door was thrown open and I entered the 
smoky interior of a Thibetan hut crammed 
with children. And every child had flaming 
red hair. A fresh-gathered cow's tail lay on 
the floor, and by its side two pieces of black 
velvet — my black velvet — rudely hacked into 
the semblance of masks. 

"And what is t^is shame, Nam gay Doola?" 
I asked. 

He grinned more charmingly than ever. 
*^' There is no shame," said he. "I did but cut 
off the tail of that man's cow. He betrayed 
me. I was minded to shoot him, sahib, but 
not to death. Indeed, not to death ; only in 
the legs." 

"And why at all, since it is the custom to 
pay revenue to the king? Why at all?" 

"By the god of my father, I can not tell," 
said Namgay Doola. 

"And who was thy father?" 

"The same that had this gun. " He showed 
tne his weapon, a Tower musket, bearing date 

10 Ditties 



146 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

1832 and the stamp of the Honorable East India 
Company. 

"And thy father's name?" said I. 

**Timlay Doola," said he. *'At the first, I 
being then a little child, it is in my mind that 
he wore a red coat. ' ' 

"Of that I have no doubt; but repeat the 
name of thy father twice or thrice. " 

He obeyed, and I understood whence the 
puzzling- accent in his speech came. "Thimla 
Dhula!" said he excitedly. "To this hour I 
worship his god. " 

"May I see that god?" 

"In a little while — at twilight time." 

"Rememberest thou aught of thy father's 
speech?" 

"It is long ago. But there was one word 
which he said of ten. Thus, 'Shun!' Then I 
and my brethren stood upon our feet, our 
hands to our sides, thus." 

"Even so. And what was thy mother?" 

"A woman of the Hills. We be Lepchas of 
Darjiling, but me they call an outlander, be- 
cause my hair as as thou seest. " 

The Thibetan woman, his wife, touched him 
on the arm gently. The long parley outside 
the fort had lasted far into the day. It was 
now close upon twilight — the hour of the 
Angelus. Very solemnly the red-headed brats 
rose from the floor and formed a semicircle. 
Namgay Doola laid his gun aside, lighted a 
little oil-lamp, and set it before a recess in the 
wall. Pulling back a whisp of dirty cloth, he 
revealed a worn brass crucifix, leaning against 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 14T 

the helmet badge of a long-forgotten East 
India Company's regiment. "Thus did my 
father," he said, crossing himself clumsily. 
The wife and children followed suit. Then, 
all together, they struck up the wailing chant 
that I heard on the hill-side : 



"Dir hane mard-i-yemen dir 
To weeree ala gee." 



I was puzzled no longer. Again and again 
they sung, as if their hearts would break, their 
version of the chorus of* The Wearing of the 
Green": 

"They're hanging men and women, too, 
For the wearing of the green. ' ' 

A diabolical inspiration came to me. One of 
the brats, a boy about eight years old — could 
he have been in the fields last night? — was 
watching me as he sung. 

I pulled out a rupee, held the coin between 
finger and thumb, and looked — only looked — at 
the gun leaning against the wall. A grin of 
brilliant and perfect comprehension overspread 
his porringer-like face. Never for an instant 
stopping the song, he held out his hand for 
the money, and then slid the gun to my hand. 
I might have shot Namgay Doola dead as he 
chanted, but I was satisfied. The inevitable 
blood-instinct held true. Namgay Doola drew 
the curtain across the recess. Angelus was 
over. 



148 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

"Thus my father sung. There was much 
more, but I have forgotten, and I do not know 
the purport of even these words, but it may be 
that the god will understand. I am not of this 
people, and I v/ill not pay revenue. " 

''And why?" 

Again that soul-compelling grin. *'What 
occupation would be to me between crop and 
crop? It is better than scaring bears. But 
these people do not understand." 

He picked the masks off the floor and looked 
in my face as simply as a child. 

*'By what road didst thou attain knowledge 
to make those deviltries?" I said, pointing. 

"I can not tell. I am but a Lepcha of Dar- 
jiling, and yet the stuff " 

*' Which thou has stolen," said I. 

"Nay, surely. Did I steal? I desired it so. 
The stuff — the stuff. What else should I have 
done with the stuff ?" He twisted the velvet 
between his fingers. 

"But the sin of maiming the cow — consider 
that." 

"Oh, sahib, the man betrayed me; the 
heifer's tail waved in the moonlight, and I had 
my knife. What else should I have done? 

The tail came off ere I was aware. Sahib, 
thou knowest more than I." 

"That is true," said I. "Stay within the 
door. I go to speak to the king. " The popu- 
lation of the state were ranged on the hill-side. 
I went forth and spoke. 

"Oh, king," said I, "touching this man, 
there be two courses open to thy wisdom. 



NAMGAY DOOLA. 149 

Thou canst either hang him from a tree — he 
and his brood — till there remains no hair that 
is red within thy land. ' ' 

"Nay," said the king. "Why should I hurt 
the little children?" 

They had poured out of the hut and were 
makiiig plump obeisance to everybody. 
Namgay Doola waited at the door with his 
gun across his arm. 

"Or thou canst, discarding their impiety of 
the cow-maiming-, raise him to honor in thy 
army. He comes of a race that will not pay 
revenue. A red flame is in his blood vv^hich 
comes out at the top of his head in that glow- 
ing hair. Make him chief of thy army. 
Give him honor as may befall and full allow- 
ance of work, but look to it, oh, king, that 
neither he nor his hold a foot of earth from 
thee henceforward. Feed him with words and 
favor, and also liquor from certain bottles that 
thou knowest of, and he will be a bulwark of 
defense. But deny him even a tuftlet of grass 
for his own. This is the nature that God has 
given him. Moreover, he has brethren " 

The state groaned unanimously. 

"But if his brethren come they will surely 
fight with each other till they die ; or else the 
one will always give information concerning 
the other. Shall he be of thy army, oh, king? 
Choose." 

The king bowed his head, and I said: 
"Come forth, Namgay Doola, and command 
the king's army. Thy name shall no more be 



150 NAMGAY DOOLA. 

Namgay in the mouths of men, but Patsay 
Doola, for, as thou hast truly said, I know." 

Then Namgay Doola, new-christened Patsay 
Doola, son of Timlay Doola — which is Tim 
Doolan — clasped the king's feet, cuffed the 
standing army, and hurried in an agony of 
contrition from temple to temple amking 
offerings for the sin of the cattle-maiming. 

And the king was so pleased with my perspi- 
cacity that he offered to sell me a village for 
^20 sterling. But I buy no village in the 
Himalayas so long as one red head flares be- 
tween the tail of the heaven-climbing glacier 
and the dark birch forest. 

I know that breed. 



MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 



Once upon a time there was a coffee-planter 
in India who wished to clear some forest land 
for coffee-planting. When he had cut down 
all the trees and burned the underwood, the 
stumps still remained. Dynamite is expensive 
and slow fire slow. The happy medium for 
stump-clearing is the lord of all beasts, who is 
the elephant. He will either push the stump 
out of the ground with his tusks, if he has any, 
or drag it out with ropes. The planter, there- 
fore, hired elephants by ones and twos and 
threes, and fell to work. The very best of all 
the elephants belonged to the very worst of all 
the drivers or mahouts; and this superior 
beast's name was Moti Guj. He was the abso- 
lute property of his mahout, which would never 
have been the case under native rule : for Moti 
Guj was a creature to be desired by kings, and 
his name, being translated, meant the Pearl 
Elephant. Because the British government 
was in the land, Deesa, the mahout, enjoyed 
his property undisturbed. He was dissipated. 
When he had made much money through the 
strength of his elephant, he would get 
extremely drunk and give Moti Guj a beating 
with a tent-peg over the tender nails of the 

151 



152 MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 

forefeet. Moti Guj never trampled the life 
out of Deesa on these occasions, for he knew 
that after the beating was over, Deesa would 
embrace his trunk and weep and call him his 
love and his life and the liver of his soul, and 
give him some liquor. Moti Guj was very 
fond of liquor — arrack for choice, though he 
would drink palm-tree toddy if nothing better 
offered. Then Deesa would go to sleep between 
Moti Guj's forefeet, and as Deesa generally 
chose the middle of the public road, and as 
Moti Guj mounted guard over him, and would 
not permit horse, foot, or cart to pass by, 
traffic was congested till Deesa saw fit to wake 
up. 

There was no sleeping in the day-time on 
the planter's clearing: the wages were too 
high to risk. Deesa sat on Moti Guj's neck 
and gave him orders, while Moti Guj rooted up 
the stumps — for he owned a magnificent pair 
of tusks ; or pulled at the end of a rope — for 
he had a magnificent pair of shoulders — while 
Deesa kicked him behind the ears and said he 
was the king of elephants. At evening time 
Moti Guj would wash down his three hundred 
pounds' weight of green food with a quart of 
arrack, and Deesa would take a share, and 
sing songs between Moti Guj's legs till it was 
time to go to bed. Once a week Deesa led 
Moti Guj down to the river, and Moti Guj lay 
on his side luxuriously in the shallows, while 
Deesa went over him with a coir swab and a 
brick. Moti Guj never mistook the pounding 
blow of the latter for the smack of the former 



MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 153 

that warned him to get up and turn over on 
the other side. Then Deesa would look at his 
feet and examine his eyes, and turn up the 
fringes of his mighty ears in case of sores or 
budding ophthalmia. After inspection the 
two would "come up with a song from the sea, ' ' 
Moti Guj, all black and shining, waving a torn 
tree branch twelve feet long in his trunk, and 
Deesa knotting up his own long wet hair. 

It was a peaceful, well-paid life till Deesa felt 
the return of the desire to drink deep. He 
wished for an orgy. The little draughts that 
led nowhere were taking the manhood out of 
him. 

He went to the planter, and "My mother's 
dead," said he, weeping. 

"She died on the last plantation two months 
ago, and she died once before that when you 
were working for me last year, ' 'said the planter, 
who knew something of the ways of native- 
dom. 

"Then it's my aunt, and she was just the 
same as a mother to me," said Deesa, weeping 
more than ever. "She has left eighteen small 
children entirely without bread, and it is I who 
must fill their little stomachs," said Deesa, 
beating his head on the floor. 

"Who brought you the news?" said the 
planter. 

"The post," said Deesa. 

"There hasn't been a post here for the past 
week. Get back to your lines!" 

"A devasting sickness has fallen on my vil- 



154 MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 

lage, and all my wives are dying," yelled 
Deesa, really in tears this time. 

*'Ca]l Chihun, who comes from Deesa's vil- 
lage," said the planter. "Chihun, has this man 
got a wife?" 

"He?" said Chihun. "No. Not a woman 
of our village would look at him. They'd 
sooner marry the elephant." 

Chihun snorted. Deesa wept and bellowed. 

*'You will get into difficulty in a minute," 
said the planter. **Go back to your work!" 

"Now I will speak Heaven's truth," gulped 
Deesa, with an inspiration. "I haven't been 
drunk for two months. I desire to depart in 
order to get properly drunk afar off and distant 
from this heavenly plantation. Thus I shall 
cause no trouble. ' ' 

A flickering smile crossed the planter's face. 
"Deesa," said he, "you've spoken the truth, 
and I'd give you leave on the spot if anything 
could be done with Moti Guj while you're 
away. You know that he will only obey 
your orders. ' ' 

"May the light of the heavens live forty 
thousand years. I shall be absent but ten 
little days. After that, upon my faith and 
honor and soul, I return. As to the inconsid- 
erable interval, have I the gracious permission 
of the heaven-born to call up Moti Guj?" 

Permission was granted, and in answer to 
Deesa's shrill yell, the mighty tusker swung 
out of the shade of a clump of trees where he 
had been squirting dust over himself till his 
master should return. 



MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 155 

* * Light of my heart, protector of the drunken, 
mountain of might, give ear!" said Deesa, 
standing in front of him. 

Moti Guj gave ear, and saluted with his 
trunk. *'I am going away," said Deesa. 

Moti Guj's eyes twinkled. He liked jaunts 
as well as his master. One could snatch all 
manner of nice things from the road-side then. 

"But you, you fussy old pig, must stay behind 
and work." 

The twinkle died out as Moti Guj tried to 
look delighted. He hated stump-hauling on 
the plantation. It hurt his teeth. 

"I shall be gone for ten days, oh, delectable 
one! Hold up your near forefoot and I'll 
impress the fact upon it, warty toad of a dried 
mud-puddle." Deesa took a tent-peg and 
banged Moti Guj ten times on the nails. Moti 
Guj grunted and shuffled from foot to foot. 

"Ten days," said Deesa, "you will work and 
haul and root the trees as Chihun here shall 
order you. Take up Chihun and set him on 
your neck!" Moti Guj curled the tip of his 
trunk, Chihun put his foot there, and was 
swung on to the neck. Deesa handed Chihun 
the heavy ankus — the iron elephant goad. 

Chihun thumped Moti Guj's bald head as a 
paver thumps a curbstone. 

Moti Guj trumpeted. 

"Be still, hog of the backwoods! Chihun's 
your mahout for ten days. And now bid me 
good-bye, beast after mine own heart. Oh, 
my lord, my king! Jewel of all created ele- 



156 MOTI GU J— MUTINEER. 

phants, lily of the herd, preserve your honored 
health; be virtuous. Adieu!" 

Moti Guj lapped his trunk round Deesa and 
swung him into the air twice. That was his 
way of bidding him good-bye. 

' ' He'll work now, ' ' said Deesa to the planter. 
"Have I leave to go?" 

The planter nodded, and Deesa dived into 
the woods. Moti Guj want back to haul 
stumps. 

Chihun was very kind to him, cut he felt 
unhappy and forlorn for all that. Chihun 
gave him a ball of spices, end tickled him 
under the chin, and Chihun 's little baby cooed 
to him after work was over, and Chihun's wife 
called him a darling; but Moti Guj was a 
bachelor by instinct, as Deesa was. He did not 
understand the domestic emotions. He 
wanted the light of his universe back again — 
the drink and the drunken slumber, the savage 
beatings and the savage caresses. 

None the less he worked well, and the planter 
wondered. Deesa had wandered along the 
roads till he met a marriage procession of his 
own caste, and, drinking, dancing, and tip- 
pling, had drifted with it past all knowledge of 
the lapse of time. 

The morning of the eleventh day dawned, 
and there returned no Deesa. Moti Guj was 
loosed from his ropes for the daily stint. He 
swung clear, looked round, shrugged his shoul- 
ders, and began to walk away, as one having 
business elsewhere. 

*'Hi! Ho! Come back you!" shouted Chi- 



MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 157 

hun. *'Come back and put me on your neck, 
misborn mountain ! Return, splendor of the 
hill-sides! Adornment of all India, heave to, 
or I'll bang" every toe off your fat forefoot!" 

Moti Guj gurgled gently, but did not obey. 
Chihun ran after him with a rope and caught 
him up. Moti Guj put his ears forward, and 
CliHiun knew what that meant, though he tried 
to carry it off with high words. 

"None of your nonsense with me," said he. 
*'To your pickets, devil-son!" 

"Hrrump!" said Moti Guj, and that was all 
— that and the forebent ears. 

Moti Guj put his hands in his pockets, chewed 
a branch for a toothpick, and strolled about the 
clearing, making fun of the other elephants 
who had just set to work. 

Chihun reported the state of affairs to the 
planter, who came out with a dog-whip and 
cracked it furiously. Moti Guj paid the white 
man the compliment of charging him nearly a 
quarter of a mile across the clearing and 
*'Hrrumphing" him into his veranda. Then he 
stooQ outside the house,chucklingto himself and 
shaking all over with the fun of it, as an ele- 
phant will. 

"We'll thrash him," said the planter. "He 
shall have the finest thrashing ever elephant 
received. Give Kala Nag and Nazim twelve 
foot of chain apiece, and tell- them to lay on 
twenty." 

Kala Nag — which means Black Snake — and 
Nazim were two of the biggest elephants in 
the lines, and one of their duties was to admin- 



158 MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 

ister the graver punishment, since no man can 
beat an elephant properly. 

They took the whipping-chains and rattled 
them in their trunks as they sidled up to Moti 
Guj meaning to hustle him between them. 
Moti Guj had never, in all his life of thirty- 
nine years, been whipped, and he did not 
intend to begin a new experience. So he 
waited, waving his head from right to left, and 
measuring the precise spot in Kala Nag's fat 
side where a blunt tusk could sink deepest. 
Kala Nag had no tusks; the chain 'was his 
badge of authority ; but for all that, he swung 
wide of Moti Guj at the last minute, and tried 
to appear as if he had brought the chain out 
for amusement. Nazim turned round and went 
home early. He did not feel fighting fit that 
morning, and so Moti Guj was left standing 
alone with his ears cocked. 

That decided the planter to argue no more, 
and Moti Guj rolled back to his amateur 
inspection of the clearing. An elephant who 
will not work and is not tied up is about as man- 
ageable as an eighty-one-ton gun loose in a 
heavy seaway. He slapped old friends on the 
back and asked them if the stumps were com- 
ing away easily ; he talked nonsense concern- 
ing labor and the inalienable rights of ele- 
phants to a long *' nooning;" and, wandering 
to and fro, he thoroughly demoralized the gar- 
den till sundown, when he returned to his 
picket for food. 

**If you won't work, you shan't eat," said 
Chihun, angrily. ''You're a wild elephant, 



MOTI GUJ-MUTINEER. 159 

and no educated animal at all. Go back to 
your jungle. " 

Chihun's little brown baby was rolling on 
the floor of the hut, and stretching out its fat 
arms to the huge shadow in the doorway. 
Moti Guj knew well that it was the dearest 
thing on earth to Chihun. He swung out his 
trunk with a fascinating crook at the end, and 
the brown baby threw itself, shouting, upon 
it. Moti Guj made fast and pulled up till the 
brown baby was crowing in the air twelve feet 
above his father's head. 

"Great Lord!" said Chihun. "Flour cakes 
of the best, twelve in number, two feet across 
and soaked in rum, shall be yours on the 
instant, and two hundred pounds' weight of 
fresh-cut young sugar-cane therewith. Deign 
onl}' to put down safely that insignificant brat 
who is my heart and my life to me!" 

Moti Guj tucked the brown baby comfortably 
between his forefeet, that could have knocked 
into toothpicks all Chihun's hut, and waited 
for his food. He eat it, and the brown baby 
crawled away. Moti Guj dozed and thought of 
Deesa. One of many mysteries connected with 
the elephant is that his huge body needs less 
sleep than anything else that lives. Four or 
five hours in the night suffice — two just before 
midnight, lynig down on one side; two just 
after one o'clock, lying down on the other. 
The rest of the silent hours are filled with eat- 
ing and fidgeting, and long grumbling solilo- 
quies. 

At midnight, therefore, Moti Guj strode out 



160 MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 

of his pickets, for a thought had come to him 
that Deesa might by lying drunk somewhere 
in the dark forest with none to look after him. 
So all that night he chased through the under- 
growth, blowing and trumpeting and shaking 
his ears. He went down to the river and 
blared across the shallows where Deesa used to 
wash him, but there was no answer. He could 
not find Deesa, but he disturbed all the other 
elephants in the lines, and nearly frightened 
to death some gypsies in the woods. 

At dav/n Deesa returned to the plantation. 
He had been very drunk indeed, and he 
expected to get into trouble for outstaying his 
leave. He drew a long breath when he saw 
that the bungalow and the plantation were still 
uninjured, for he knew something of Moti 
Guj's temper, and reported himself with many 
lies and salaams. Moti Guj had gone to his 
pickets for breakfast. The night exercise had 
made him hungry. 

"Call up your beast," said the planter; and 
Deesa shouted in the mysterious elephant lan- 
guage that some mahouts believe came from 
China at the birth of the world, when ele- 
phants and not men were masters. Moti Guj 
heard and came. Elephants do not gallop. 
They move from places at varying rates of 
speed. If an elephant wished to catch an 
express train he could not gallop, but he could 
catch the train. So Moti Guj was at the 
planter's door almost before Chihun noticed 
that he had left his pickets. He fell into 
Deesa's arms trumpeting with joy, and the 



MOTI GUJ— MUTINEER. 161 

man and beast wept and slobbered over each 
other, and handled each other from head to 
heel to see that no harm had befallen. 

'*Now we will get to work," said Deesa. 
**Lift me up, my son and my joy!" 

Moti Guj swung him up, and the two went 
to the coffee-clearing to look for difficult 
stumps. 

The planter was too astonished to be very 
angry. 



11 Ditties 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVER- 

ICKS. 



When three obscure gentlemen in San 
Francisco argued on insufficient premises, they 
condemned a fellow-creature to a most 
unpleasant death in a far country which had 
nothing whatever to do with the United States. 
They foregathered at the top of a tenement- 
house in Tehama Street, an unsavory quarter 
of the city, and there calling for certain drinks, 
they conspired because they were conspirators 
by trade, officially known as the Third Three 
of the I. A. A. — an institution for the propa- 
gation of pure light, not to be confounded 
with any others; though it is affiliated to 
many. The Second Three live in Montreal 
and work among the poor there; the First 
Three have their home in New York, not far 
from Castle Garden, and write regularly once 
a week to a small house near one of the big 
hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that, 
a particular section of Scotland Yards knows 
too well and laughs at. A conspirator detests 
ridicule. More men have been stabbed with 
Lucrezia Borgia daggers and dropped into the 
Thames for laughing at head centers and tri- 

162 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 163 

angles than for betraying secrets; for this is 
human nature. 

The Third Three conspired over whisky- 
cocktails and a clean sheet of note-paper 
against the British Empire and all that lay 
therein. This work is very like what men 
without discernment call politics before a 
general election. You pick out and discuss in 
the company of congenial friends all the weak 
points in your opponents* organization, and 
unconsciously dwell upon and exaggerate all 
their mishaps, till it seems to you a miracle 
that the party holds together for an hour. 

**Our principle is not so much active demon- 
stration — that we leave to others — as passive 
embarrassment to weaken and unnerve," said 
the first man. "Wherever an organization is 
crippled, wherever a confusion is thrown into 
any branch of any department, we gain a step 
for those who take on the work ; we are but the 
forerunners." He was a German enthusiast, 
and editor of a newspaper, from whose leading 
articles he quoted frequently. 

"That cursed empire makes so many 
blunders of her own that unless we doubled 
the year's average I guess it wouldn't strike 
her anything special had occurred," said the 
second man. "Are you prepared to say that 
all our resources are equal to blowing off the 
muzzle of a hundred-ton gun or spiking a ten- 
thousand-ton ship on a plain rock in clear day- 
light? They can beat us at our game. Better 
join hands with the practical branches; we're 
in funds now. Try and direct a scare in a 



164 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

crowded street. They value their greasy 
hides. " He was the drag upon the wheel, and 
an Americanized Irishman of the second gen- 
eration, despising his own race and hating the 
other. He had learned caution. 

The third man drank his cocktail and spoke 
no word. He was the strategist, but unfort- 
unately his knowledge of life was limited. He 
picked a letter from his breast-pocket and 
threw it across the table. That epistle to the 
heathen contained some very concise directions 
from the First Three in New York. It said : 

"The boom in black iron has already affected 
the eastern markets, where our agents have 
been forcing down the English-held stock 
among the smaller buyers who watch the turn 
of shares. Any immediate operations, such as 
western bears, would increase their willingness 
to unload. This, however, can not be 
expected till they see clearly that foreign iron- 
masters are willing to co-operate. Mulcahy 
should be dispatched to feel the pulse of the 
market, and act accordingly. Mavericks are 
at present the best for our purpose.— P. D. Q. " 

As a message referring to an iron crisis in 
Pennsylvania it was interesting, if not lucid. 
As a new departure in organized attack on an 
outlying English dependency, it was more 
than interesting. 

The first man read it through, and mur- 
mured: 

* 'Already? Surely they are in too great a 
hurry. All that Dhulip Singh could do in In- 
dia he has done, down to the distribution of his 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 165 

photographs among the peasantry. Ho! Ho! 
The Paris firm arranged that, and he has no 
substantial money backing from the Other 
Power. Even our agents in India know he 
hasn't. What is the use of our organization 
wasting men on work that is already done? 
Of ceurse, the Irish regiments in India are half 
mutinous as they stand." 

This shows how near a lie may come to the 
truth. An Irish regiment, for just so long as 
it stands still, is generally a hard handful to 
control, being reckless and rough. When, 
however, it is moved in the direction of mus- 
ketry-fire, it becomes strangely and unpatriot- 
ically content with its lot. It has even been 
heard to cheer the queen with enthusiasm on 
these occasions. 

But the notion of tampering with the army 
was, from the point of view of Tehama Street, 
an altogether sound one. There is no shadow 
of stability in the policy of an English govern- 
ment, and the most sacred oaths of England 
would, even if embossed on vellum, find very 
few buyers among colonies and dependencies 
that have suffered from vain beliefs. But 
there remains to England always her army. 
That can not change, except in the matter of 
•uniform and equipment. The officers may 
write to the papers demanding the heads of the 
Horse Guards in default of cleaner redress for 
grievances ; the men may break loose across a 
country town, and seriously startle the publi- 
cans, but neither officers nor men have it in 
their composition to mutiny after the Conti- 



166 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

nental manner. The English people, when 
they trouble to think about the army at all, 
are, and with justice, absolutely assured that it 
is absolutely trustworthy. Imagine for a 
moment their emotions on realizing that such 
and such a regiment was in open revolt from 
causes directly due to England's management 
of Ireland. They would probably send the 
regiment to the polls forthwith, and examine 
their own consciences as to their duty to Erin, 
but they would never be easy any more. 
And it was this vague, unhappy mistrust that 
the I. A. A. was laboring to produce. 

*' Sheer waste of breath," said the second 
man, after a pause in the council. **I don't 
see the use of tampering with their fool-army, 
but it has been tried before, and we must try 
it again. It looks well in the reports. If we 
send one man fron:* here, you many bet your 
life that other men are going too. Order up 
Mulcahy." 

They ordered him up — o> slim, slight, dark- 
haired young man, devoured with that blind, 
rancorous hatred of England that only reaches 
its full growth across the Atlantic. He had 
sucked it from his mother's breast in the little 
cabin at the back of the northern avenues of 
New York ; he had been taught his rights and 
his wrongs, in German and Irish, on the canal 
fronts of Chicago ; and San Francisco held men 
who told him strange and awful things of the 
great blind power over the seas. Once, when 
business took him across the Atlantic, he had 
served in an English regiment, and being in sub- 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 167 

ordinate, had suffered extremely. He drew all 
his ideas of England that were not bred by the 
cheaper patriotic print, from one iron-fisted 
colonel and an unbending adjutant. He would 
go to the mines if need be to teach his gospel. 
And he went as his instructions advised, p. d. 
q.~y which means **with speed" — to introduce 
embarrassment into an Irish regiment, ** al- 
ready half mutinous, quartered among Sikh 
peasantry, all wearing miniatures of His High- 
ness Dhulip Singh, Maharaja of the Punjab, 
next their hearts, and all eagerly expecting 
his arrival." Other information equally valu- 
able was given him by his masters. He was 
to be cautious, but never to grudge expense in 
winning the hearts of the men in the regiment. 
His mother in New York would supply funds, 
and he was to write to her once a month. Life 
is pleasant for a man who has a mother in New 
York to send him ^^^200 a year over and above 
his regimental pay. 

In process of time, thanks to his intimate 
knowledge of drill and musketry exercise, the 
excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal's 
stripe, went out in a troop-ship and joined Hor 
Majesty's Royal Loyal Musketeers, commonly 
known as the '* Mavericks," because they were 
masterless and unbranded cattle —sons of small 
farmers in County Clare, shoeless vagabonds 
of Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, much wanted 
** moonlighters" from the bare rainy headlands 
of the south coast, officered by O' Mores, 
Bradys, Hills, Kilreas, and the like. Never, 
to outward seeming, was there more promising 



168 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

material to work on. The First Three had 
chosen their regiment well. It feared nothing 
that moved or talked save the colonel and the 
regimental Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat 
Father Dennis, who held the keys of heaven 
and hell, and glared like an angry bull when 
he desired to be convincing. Him also it 
loved because on occasions of stress he was 
wont to tuck up his cassock and charge with 
the rest into the merriest of the fray, where he 
always found, good man, that the saints sent 
him a revolver when there was a fallen private 
to be protected or — but this came as an after- 
thought — his own gray head to be guarded. 

Cautiously as he had been instructed, ten- 
derly and with much beer, Mulcahy opened his 
projects to such as he deemed fittest to listen. 
And these were, one and all, of that quaint, 
crooked, sweet, profoundly irresponsible, and 
profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, 
argue like children, reason like women, obey 
like men, and jest like their own goblins of 
the wrath through rebellion, loyalty, want, 
woe, or war. The underground work of a con- 
spiracy is always dull, and very much the same 
the world over. At the end of six months — 
the seed always falling on good ground — Mul- 
cahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in 
the approved fashion at dread powers behind 
him, and advising nothing more nor less than 
mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated? 
had they not all their own and the natural 
revenges to satisfy? Who in these days could 
do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. lo9 

who, again, could stay them if they broke for 
the sea, licking up on their way other regi- 
ments only too anxious to join? And after- 
ward . . . here followed windy promises of 
gold and preferment, office and honor, ever 
dear to a certain type of Irishman. 

A%he finished his speech, in the dusk of a 
twilight, to his chosen associates, there was a 
sound of a rapidly unslung belt behind him. 
The arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the 
gloom and arrested something. Then said 
Dan: 

*'Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you do 
credit to whoever sent you. Walk about a bit 
while we think ofit. " Mulcahy departed 
elated. He knew his words would sink deep. 

**Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not 
let me curl the tripes out of him?" grunted a 
voice. 

"Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. Boys, 
'tis what he's been driving at these six months 
— our superior corpril, with his education, and 
his copies of the Irish papers, and his everlast- 
ing beer. He's been sent for the purpose, and 
that's where the money comes from. Can ye 
not see? That man's a gold-mine, which 
Horse Egan here would have destroyed with a 
belt- buckle. It would be throwing away the 
gifts of Providence not to fall in with his little 
plans. Of course we'll mutiny till all's dry. 
Shoot the colonel on the parade-ground, mas- 
sacre the company officers, ransack the arsenal, 
and then — boys, did he tell you what next? 
He told me the other nioht, when he was be- 



170 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

ginning to talk wild. Then we're to join with 
the niggers, and look for help from Dhulip 
Singh and the Russians!" 

"And spoil the best campaign that ever was 
this side of hell! Danny, I'd have lost the 
beer to ha* given him the belting he requires. " 

*'0h, let him go this a while, man! He's got 
no — no constructiveness; but that's the egg- 
meat of his plan, and you must understand 
that I'm in with it, an' so are you. We'll 
want oceans of beer to convince us — firmaments 
full. We'll give him talk for his money, and 
one by one all the boys'll come in, and he'll 
have a nest of nine hundred mutineers to squat 
in an' give drink to." 

"What makes me killing mad is his wanting 
us to do what the niggers did thirty years gone. 
That an* his pig's cheek in vsaying that other 
regiments would come along, ' ' said a Kerry 
man. 

"That's not so bad as hintin' we should 
loose off at the colonel. " 

"Colonel be sugared!, I'd as soon as not put 
a shot through his helmet, to see him jump and 
clutch his old horses' head. But Mulcahy 
talks o* shootin' our comp'ny orf'cers acciden- 
tal." 

"He said that, did he?" said Horse Egan. 

"Somethin' like that, anyways. Can't ye 
fancy ould Barber Brady wid a bullet in his 
lungs, coughin' like a sick monkey an' sayin': 
*Bhoys, I do not mind your gettin' dhrunk, but 
you must hould your liquor like men. The 
man that shot me is dhrunk. I'll suspend 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 171 

investigations for six hours, while I get this 
bullet cut out, and then * ' ' 

*'An' then," continued Horse Egan, for the 
peppery major's peculiarities of speech and 
manner were as well known as his tanned face 
— "an' then, ye dissolute, half-baked, putty- 
faced scum o' Connemara, if I find a man so 
much as lookin' confused, bedad I'll coort- 
martial the whole company. A man that can't 
get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to 
belong to the Mavericks!" 

A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth 
of the sketch. 

"It's pretty to think of," said the Kerry 
man slowly. "Mulcahy would have us do all 
the devilment, and get clear himself, some- 
ways. He wudn't be takin' all this fool's 
throuble in shpoilin' the reputation of the regi- 
ment. " 

"Reputation of your grandmother's pig!" 
said Dan. 

"Well, an' he had a good reputation, too; so 
it's all right. Mulcahy must see his way clear 
out behind him, or he'd not ha' come so far, 
talkin' powers of darkness." 

"Did you hear anything of a regimental 
court-martial among the Black Boneens, these 
days? Half a company of 'em took one of the 
new draft an' hanged him by his arms with a 
tent-rope from a third-story veranda. They 
gave no reason for so doin', but he was half 
head. I'm thinking that the Boneens are 
short-sighted. It was a friend of Mulcahy's, 
or a man in the same trade. They'd a deal 



172 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

better ha' taken his beer," returned Dan, 
reflectively. 

"Better still ha' handed him np to the 
colonel," said Horse Egan, "onless — But sure 
the news wud be all over the counthry an' give 
the reg'ment a bad name. " 

"An' there'll be no reward for that man — 
but he went about talkin'," said the Kerry 
man, artlessly. 

"You speak by your breed," said Dan, with 
a laugh. "There was never a Kerry man yet 
that wudn't sell his brother for a pipe o' 
tobacco an' a pat on the back from a police- 
man." 

"Thank God I'm not a bloomin' Orange- 
man," was the answer. 

"No, nor never will be," said Dan. "They 
breed men in Ulster. Would you like to thry 
the taste of one?" 

The Kerry man looked and longed, but fore- 
bore. The odds of battle were too great. 

"Then you'll not even give Mulcahy a — a 
strike for his money, ' ' said the voice of Horse 
Egan, who regarded what he called "trouble" 
of any kind as the pinnacle of felicity. 

Dan answered not at all, but crept on tiptoe, 
with large strides, to the mess-room, the men 
following. The room was empty. In a 
corner, cased like the King of Dahomey's state 
umbrella, stood the regimental colors. Dan 
lifted them tenderly, and unrolled in the light 
of the candles the record of the Mavericks — 
tattered, worn, and hacked. The white satin 
was darkened everywhere with big brown 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 173 

stains, the gold threads on the crowned harp 
were frayed and discolored, and the red bull, 
the totem of the Mavericks, was coffee-hued. 
The stiff, embroidered folds, whose price is 
human life, rustled down slowly. The Maver- 
icks keep their colors long and guard them 
very sacredly. 

"Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo. 
Moodkee, Ferozshah, and Sobraon — that was 
fought close next door here, against the very 
beggars he wants us to join. Inkermann, the 
Alma, Sebastopol! What are those little busi- 
nesses compared to the campaigns of General 
Mulcahy? The mut'ny,thinko' that; themut'ny 
an' some dirty little matters in Afghanistan, 
and for that an' these and those" — Dan 
pointed to the names of glorious battles — "that 
Yankee man with the partin' in his hair comes 
and says as easy as 'have a drink' . . . Holy 
Moses! there's the captain!" 

But it was the mess-sergeant who came in 
just as the men clattered out, and found the 
colors uncased. 

From that day dated the mutiny of the Mav- 
ericks, to the joy of Mulcahy and the pride of 
his mother in New York — the good lady who 
sent the money for the beer. Never, as far as 
words went, was such a mutiny. The conspir- 
ators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, 
poured in daily. They were sound men, men 
to be trusted, and they all wanted blood; but 
first they must have beer. They cursed the 
queen, they mourned over Ireland, they sug- 
gested hideous plunder of the Indian country- 



174 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

side, and then, alas! some of the younger men 
would go forth and wallow on the ground in 
spasms of unholy laughter. The genius of 
the Irish for conspiracies is remarkable. None 
the less, they would swear no oaths but those 
of their own making, which were rare and 
curious, and they were always at pains to 
impress Mulcahy with the risks they ran. 
Naturally the flood of beer wrought demoral- 
ization. But Mulcahy confused the causes of 
things, and when a pot-valiant Maverick smote 
a servant on the nose or called his command- 
ing officer a bald-headed old lard-bladder, and 
even worse names, he fancied that rebellion 
and not liquor was at the bottom of the out- 
break. Other gentlemen who have concerned 
themselves in larger conspiracies have made 
the same error. 

The hot season, in which they protested no 
man could rebel, came to an end, and Mulcahy 
suggested a visible return for his teachings. 
As to the actual upshot of the mutiny he cared 
nothing. It would be enough if the English, 
infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their 
army, should be startled with news of an Irish 
regiment revolting from political considera- 
tions. His persistent demands would have 
ended, at Dan's instigation, in a regimental 
belting which in all probability would have 
killed him and cut off the supply of beer, had 
not he been sent on special duty some fifty 
miles away from the cantonment to cool his 
heels in a mud fort and dismount obsolete 
artillery. Then the colonel of the Mavericks, 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 175 

reading his newspaper diligently and scenting 
frontier trouble from afar, posted to the army 
headquarters and pleaded with the commander- 
in-chief for certain privileges, to be granted 
under certain contingencies; which contingen- 
cies came about only a week later when the 
annual little war on the border developed itself 
and the colonel returned to carry the good 
news to the Mavericks. He held the promise 
of the chief for active service, and the men 
must get ready. 

On the evening of the same day, Mulcahy, 
an unconsidered corporal — yet great in con- 
spiracy — returned to cantonments, and heard 
sounds of strife and bowlings from afar off. 
The mutiny had broken out, and the barracks 
of the Mavericks were one whitewashed pan- 
demonium. A private tearing through the 
barrack square gasped in his ear: "Service! 
Active service! It's a burnin* shame. " Oh, 
joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve of 
battle! They would not — noble and loyal sons 
of Ireland! — serve the queen longer. The 
news would flash through the country-side and 
over to England, and he — Mulcahy — the trusted 
of the Third Three, had brought about the 
crash. The private stood in the middle of the 
square and cursed colonel, regiment, officers, 
and doctor, particularly the doctor, by his gods. 
An orderly of the native cavalry regiment 
clattered through the mob of soldiers. He 
was half lifted, half dragged from his horse, 
beaten on the back with mighty hand-claps 
till his eyes watered, and called all manner of 



176 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

endearing names. Yes, the Mavericks had 
fraternized with the native troops. Who, then, 
was the agent among the latter that had 
blindly wrought with Mulcahy so well? 

An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess 
to a barrack. He was mobbed by the infuri- 
ated soldiery, who closed round but did not kill 
him, for he fought his way to shelter, flying 
for his life. Mulcahy could have wept with 
pure joy and thankfulness. The very pris- 
oners in the guard- room were shaking the bars 
of their cells and howling like wild beasts, and 
from every barrack poured the booming as of 
a big war-drum. 

Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. He 
could hardly hear himself speak. Eighty men 
were pounding with fist and heel the tables 
and trestles — eighty men flushed with mutiny, 
stripped to their shirt-sleeves, their knapsacks 
half-packed for the march to the sea, made the 
two inch boards thunder again as they chanted 
to a tune that Mulcahy knew well, the Sacred 
War Song of the Mavericks: 

"Listen in the north, my boys, there's trouble on the 

wind; 
Tramp o' Cossacks hoofs in front, gray great-coats 

behind. 
Trouble on the frontier of a most amazin' kind, 
Trouble on the water o' the Oxus!" 

Then as a table broke under the furious 
accompaniment : 

"Hurrah! hurrah! its north by west we go: 
Hurrah ! hurrah I the chance we wanted so ; 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 177 

Let 'em hear the chorus from Umballa to Moscow, 
As we go marching to the Kremlin." 

*' Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the 
devils in cinders, where's my fine new sock 
widout the heel?" howled Horse Egan, ran- 
sacking everybody's knapsack but his own. 
He was engaged in making up deficiencies of 
kit preparatory to a campaign, and in that 
employ he steals best who steals last. "Ah, 
Mulcahy, you're in good time," he shouted. 
*'We've got the route, and we're off on Thurs- 
day for a picnic wid the Lancers next door. " 

An ambulance orderly appeared with a huge 
basket full of lint rolls, provided by the fore- 
thought of the queen, for such as might need 
them later on. Horse Egan unrolled his band- 
age and flicked it under Mulcahy 's nose, chant- 
ing: 

'* 'Sheep's skin an' bees'-wax, thunder, pitch and 

plaster ; 
The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the 

faster, 
As I was goin' to New Orleans ' 

You know the rest of it, my Irish-American- 
Jew boy. By gad, ye have to fight for the 
queen in the inside av a fortnight, my darlin'. " 
A roar of laughter interrupted. Mulcahy 
looked vacantly down the room. Bid a boy 
defy his father when the pantomime-cab is at 
the door, or a girl develop a will of her own 
when her mother is putting the last touches to 
the first ball-dress, but do not ask an Irish 
regiment to embark upon mutiny on the eve 

12 Diltioq 



178 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

of a campaign; when it has fraternized with 
the native regiment that accompanies it, and 
driven its officers into retirement v/ith ten 
thousand clamorous questions, and the pris- 
oners dance for joy, and the sick men stand in 
the open, calling down all known diseases on 
the head of the doctor who has certified that 
they are "medically unfit for active service." 
And even the Mavericks might have been mis- 
taken for mutineers by one so unversed in 
their natures as Mulcahy. At dawn a girls' 
school might have learned deportment from 
them. They knew that their colonel's hand 
had closed, and that he who broke that iron 
discipline would not go to the front. Nothing 
in the world will persuade one of uur soldiers 
when he is ordered to the north on the smallest 
of affairs, that he is not immediately going 
gloriously to slay Cossacks and cook his kettles 
in the palace of the czar. A few of the 
younger men mourned for Mulcahy's beer, 
because the campaign was to be conducted on 
strict temperance principles, but, as Dan and 
Horse Egan said sternly: "We've got the 
beerman with us; he shall drink now on his 
own hook." 

Mulcahy had not taken into account the 
possibility of being sent on active service. He 
had made up his mind that he would not go 
under any circumstances; but fortune was 
against him. 

"Sick — you?" said the doctor, who had served 
an unholy apprenticeship to his trade in Tralee 
poor-houses. "You're only homesick, and 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 179 

what you call varicose veins come for over- 
eating. A little gentle exercise will cure that. ' ' 
And later: *'Mulcahy, my man, everybody is 
allowed to apply for a sick certificate once. If 
he tries it twice, we call him an ugly name 
Go back to your duty, and let's hear no more 
of your diseases." 

I ^m ashamed to say that Horse Egan 
enjoyed the study of Mulcahy's soul in those 
days, and Dan took an equal interest. To- 
gether they would communicate to their cor- 
poral all the dark lore of death that is the por- 
tion of those who have seen men die. Egan 
had the larger experience, but Dan the finer 
imagination. Mulcahy shivered when the 
former spoke of the knife as an intimate 
acquaintance, or the latter dwelt with loving 
particularity on the fate of those who, 
wounded and helpless, had been overlooked by 
the ambulances, and had fallen into the hands 
of the Afghan women-folk. ^ 

Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the 
present at least, was dead. Knew, too, that a 
change had come over Dan's usually respectful 
attitude toward him, and Horse Egan's laugh- 
ter and frequent allusions to abortive conspir- 
acies emphasized all that the conspirator had 
guessed. The horrible fascination of the death- 
stories, however, made him seek their society. 
He learned much more than he had bargained 
for; and in this manner. It was on the last 
night before the regiment entrained to the 
front. The barracks were stripped of every- 
thing movable, and the men were too excited 



180 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy 
hospital smell of chloride of lime, a stench that 
depresses the soul. 

"And what," said Mulcahy in an awe-striken 
whisper, after some conversation on the eternal 
subject, "are you going to do to me, Dan?" 
This might have been the language of an able 
conspirator conciliating a weak spirit. 

"You'll see," said Dan, grimly, turning over 
in his cot, "or I rather shud say you'll not see. " 

This was hardly the language of a weak 
spirit. Mulcahy shook under the bed-clothes. 

"Be easy with him," put in Egan from the 
next cot. "He has got his chanst o' goin' 
clean. Listen, Mulcahy: all we want is for 
the good sake of the regiment that you take 
your death standing up, as a man shud. There 
be heaps an' heaps of enemy — plenshus heaps. 
Go there an' do all you can and die decent. 
You'll die with a good name there. 'Tis not 
a hard thing considerin'. ' ' 

Again Mulcahy shivered. 

"And how could a man wish to die better 
than fightin'?" added Dan consolingly. 

"And if I won't?" said the corporal in a dry 
whisper. 

"There'll be a dale of smoke," returned 
Dan, sitting up and ticking off the situation on 
his fingers, "sure to be, an' the noise of the 
firin' '11 be tremenjus, an' we'll be running 
about up and down, the regiment will. But 
we, Horse and I — we'll stay by you, Mulcahy, 
and never let you go. Maybe there'll be an 
accident." 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 181 

''It's playing it low on me. Let me go. 
For pity's sake, let me go! I never did you 
harm, and — and I stood you as much beer as I 
could. Oh, don't be hard on me, Dan! You 
are — you were in it, too. You won't kill me 
up there, will you?" 

"J'm not thinkin' of the treason ; though you 
shud be glad any honest boys drank with you. 

It's for the regiment. We can't have the 
shame o' you bringin' shame on us. You went 
to the doctor quiet as a sick cat to get and stay 
behind an' live with the women at the depot — 
you that wanted us to run to the sea in wolf- 
packs like the rebels none of your black blood 
dared to be! But we knew about your goin' 
to the doctor, for he told it in mess, and it's 
all over the regiment. Bein' as we are your 
best friends, we didn't allow any one to molest 
you yet. We will see to you ourselves. Fight 
which you will — us or the enemy — you'll never 
lie in that cot again, and there's more glory 
and maybe less kicks from fighting the enemy. 
That's fair speakin'." 

"And he told us by word of mouth to go and 
join with the niggers — you've forgotten that, 
Dan," said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. 

"What's the use of plaguin' the man? One 
shot pays for all. Sleep ye sound, Mulcahy. 
But you onderstand, do yet not?" 

Mulcahy lor some weeks understood very 
little of anything at all save that ever at his 
elbow, in camp, or at parade, stood two big 
men with soft voices adjuring him to commit 
hari kari lest a worse thing should happen — to 



182 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

die for the honor of the regiment in decency 
among the nearest knives. But Mulcahy 
dreaded death. He remembered certain 
things that priests had said in his infancy, and 
his mother — not the one at New York — starting 
from her sleep with shrieks to pray for a hus- 
band's soul in torment. It is well to be of a 
cultured intelligence, but in times of trouble 
the weak human mind returns to the creed it 
sucked in at the breast, and if that creed be 
not a pretty one, trouble follows. Also, the 
death he would have to face would be physi- 
cally painful. Most conspirators have large 
imaginations. Mulcahy could see himself, as 
he lay on the earth in the night, dying by 
various causes. They were all horrible; the 
mother in New York was very far away, and 
the regiment, the engine that, once you fall in 
its grip, moves you forward whether you will 
or won't, was daily coming closer to the enemy! 
^ ***** * 

They were brought to the field of Marzun- 
Katai, and with the Black Boneens to aid, they 
fought a fight that has never been set down in 
the newspapers. In response, many believe, 
to the fervent prayers of Father Dennis, the 
enemy not only elected to fight in the open, 
but made a beautiful fight, as many weeping 
Irish mothers knew later. They gathered 
behind walls or flickered across the open in 
shouting masses, and were pot-valiant in 
artillery. It was expedient to hold a large 
reserve and wait for the psychological moment 
that was being prepared by the shrieking 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 183 

shrapnel. Therefore the Mavericks lay down 
in open order on the brow of a hill to watch the 
play till their call should come. Father Den- 
nis, whose place was in the rear, to smooth the 
trouble of the wounded, had naturally man- 
aged to make his way to the foremost of his 
boys, and lay, like a black porpoise, at length 
on ' the grass. To him crawled Mulcahy, 
ashen- gray, demanding absolution. 

"Wait till you're shot," said Father Dennis, 
sweetly. "There's a time for everything." 

Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the fif- 
tieth time into the breech of his speckless rifle. 
Mulcahy groaned and buried his head in his 
arms till a stray shot spoke like a snipe imme- 
diately above his head, and a general heave and 
tremor rippled the line. Other shots followed, 
and a few took effect, as a shriek or a grunt 
attested. The officers, who had been lying 
down with the men, rose and began to walk 
steadily up and down the front of their com- 
panies. 

This maneuver, executed riot for publication, 
but as a guarantee of good faith, to soothe 
men, demands nerve. You must not hurry, 
you must not look nervous, though you know 
that you are a mark for every rifle within 
extreme range; and, above all, if you are 
smitten you must make as little noise as 
possible and roll inward through the files. It 
is at this hour, when the breeze brings the first 
salt whiff of the powder to noses rather cold at 
the tips, and the eye can quietly take in the 
appearance of each red casualty, that the strain 



184 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

on the nerves is strongest. Scotch regiments 
can endure for half a day, and abate no whit 
of their zeal at the end; English regiments 
sometimes sulk under punishment, while the 
Irish, like the French, are apt to run forward 
by ones and twos, which is just as bad as 
running back. The truly wise commandant 
of highly strung troops allows them in seasons 
of waiting to hear the sound of their own 
voices uplifted in song. There is a legend of 
an English regiment that lay by its arms under 
fire chanting "Sam Hall," to the horror of its 
newly appointed and pious colonel. The 
Black Boneens, who were suffering more than 
the Mavericks, on a hill half a mile away, 
began presently to explain to all who cared to 
listen : 

"We'll sound the jubilee, from the center to the sea, 
And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan-van- Voght. " 

*'Sing, boys," said Father Dennis, softly. 
*'It looks as if we cared for their Afghan peas." 

Dan Grady raised himself to his knees and 
opened his mouth in a song imparted to him, 
as to most of his comrades, in the strictest con- 
fidence by Mulcahy — that Mnlcahy then lying 
limp and fainting on the grass, the chill fear of 
death upon him. 

Company after company caught up the words 
which, the I. A. A. say, are to herald the gen- 
eral rising of Erin, and to breathe which, ex- 
cept to those duly appointed to hear, is death. 
Wherefore they are printed in this place : 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 185 

'The Saxon in heaven's just balance is weighed, 
His doom, like Belshazzar's, in death has been cast, 

And the hand of the 'venger shall never be stayed 
Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of the 
past. ' ' 

They were heart-filling lines, and they ran 
with a swirl; the I. A. A. are better served by 
pens than their petards. Dan clapped Mul- 
cahy merrily on the back, asking him to sing- 
up. The officers lay down again. There was 
no need to walk any more. Their men were 
soothing themselves, thunderously, thus: 

"St. Mary in heaven has written the vov/ 
That the land shall not rest till the heretic blood. 

From the babe at the breast to the hand at the plow, 
Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon m flood !" 

*'I'll speak to you after all's over," said 
Father Dennis, authoritatively, in Dan's ear. 
"What's the use of confessing to me when you 
do this foolishness? Dan, you've been playing 
with fire ! I'll lay you more penance in a week 
than—" 

"Come along to purgatory with us, father, 
dear. The Boneens are on the move; they'll 
let us go now!" 

The regiment rose to the blast of the bugle 
as one man ; but one man there was who rose 
more swiftly than all the others, for half an 
inch of bayonet was in the fleshy part of his leg. 

"You've got to do it," said Dan, grimly. 
"Do it decent, anyhow;" and the roar of the 
rush drowned his words as the rear companies 
thrust forward the first, still singing as they 
swung down the slope : 



186 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

"From the child at Ihe breast to the hand at the plow 
Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood!" 

They should have sung it in the face of 
England, not of the Afghans, whom it im- 
pressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. 

''They came down singing, " said the un- 
official report of the enemy, borne from village 
to village next day. "They continued to sing, 
and it was written that our men could not abide 
when they came. It is believed that there was 
magic in the aforesaid song." 

Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the 
neighborhoodof Mulcahy. Twicethe man would 
have bolted back in the confusion. Twice he 
was heaved like a half-drowned kitten into the 
unpaintale inferno of a hotly contested charge. 

At the end, the panic excess of his fear drove 
him into madness beyond all human courage. 
His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth open 
and frothing, and breathing as one in a cold 
bath, he went forward demented, while Dan 
toiled after him. The charge was checked at 
a high mud wall. It was Mulcahy that 
scrambled up tooth and nail and heaved down 
among the bayonets the amazed Afghan who 
barred his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping to 
the straight line of the rabid dog, led a 
collection of ardent souls at a newly unmasked 
battery, and flung himself on the muzzle of a 
gun as his companions danced among the 
gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran wildly on 
from that battery into the open plain where 
the enemy were retiring in sullen groups. 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 187 

His hands were empty, he had lost helmet and 
belt, and he was bleeding from a wound in the 
neck. Dan and Horse Egan, panting and 
distressed, had thrown themselves down on the 
ground by the captured guns, when they 
noticed Mulcahy's flight. 

"jyiad," said Horse Egan, critically. "Mad 
with fear! He's going straight to his death, 
an' shouting's no use." 

"Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we'll 
hit him maybe." 

The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans 
turned at the noise of shod feet behind him, 
and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, he 
saw, was no time to take prisoners. Mulcahy 
ran on, sobbing, and the straight-held blade 
went home through the defenseless breast, and 
the body pitched forward almost before a shot 
from Dan's rifle brought down the slayer and 
still further hurried the Afghan retreat. The 
two Irishmen went out to bring in their 
dead. 

"He was given the point, and that was an 
easy death," said Horse Egan, viewing the 
corpse. "But would you ha' shot him, Danny, 
if he had lived?" 

"He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. But I 
doubt I wud have, bekase of the fun he gave 
us — let alone the beer. Hike up his legs, 
Horse, and we'll bring him in. Perhaps 'tis 
better this way. ' ' 

They bore the poor limp body to the mass of 
the regiment, lolling open-mouthed on their 
rifles ; and there was a general snigger when 



188 THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 

one of the younger subalterns said: *'That 
was a good man!" 

"Phew!" said Horse Egan when a burial 
party had taken over the burden. *'rm pow- 
erful dhry, and this reminds me, there'll be no 
more beer at all." 

"Fwhy not?" said Dan, with a twinkle in his 
eye as he stretched himself for rest. "Are 
we not conspirin' all we can, an* while we con- 
spire are we not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure 
his ould mother in New York would not let her 
son's comrades perish of drouth — if she can 
be reached at the end of a letter." 

"You're a janius, " said Horse Egan. "O' 
coorse she will not. I wish this crool war was 
over, an' we'd get back to canteen. Faith, 
the commander-in-chief ought to be hanged on 
his own little sword-belt for makin' us work on 
wather. ' ' 

The Mavericks were generally of Horse 
Egan's opinion. So they made haste to get 
their work done as soon as possible, and their 
industry was rewarded by unexpected peace. 
"We can fight the sons of Adam," said the 
tribesmen, "but we can not fight the sons of 
Eblis, and this regiment never stays still in 
one place. Let us therefore come in. " They 
came in, and "this regiment" withdrew to con- 
spire under the leadership of Dan Grady. 

Excellent as a subordinate, Dan failed alto- 
gether as a chief-command — possibly because 
he was too much swayed by the advice of the 
only man in the regiment who could perpetrate 
more than one kind of handwriting. The same 



THE MUTINY OF THE MAVERICKS. 189 

mail that bore to Mulcahy's mother in New 
York a letter from the colonel, telling her how 
valiantly her son had fought for the queen, 
and how assuredly he would have been recom- 
mended for the Victoria Cross had he survived, 
carried a communication signed, I grieve to 
say, by that same colonel and all the officers of 
the "regiment, explaining their willingness to 
do "anything which is contrary to the regula- 
tions and all kinds of resolutions" if only a little 
money could be forwarded to cover incidental 
expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would receive 
funds, vice Mulcahy, who "was unwell at 
this present time of writing. " 

Both letters were forwarded from New York 
to Tehema Street, San Francisco, with mar- 
ginal comments, as brief as they were bitter. 
The Third Three read and looked at each other. 
Then the Second Conspirator — he who 
believed in "joining hands with the practical 
branches" — began to laugh, and on recovering 
his gravity, said: "Gentlemen, I consider this 
v/ill be a lesson to us. We're left again. 
Those cursed Irish have let us down. I knew 
they would, but" — here he laughed afresh— 
"I'd give considerable to know what was at the 
back of it all." 

His curiosity would have been satisfied had 
he seen Dan Grady, discredited regimental 
conspirator, trying to explain to his thirsty 
comrades in India the non-arrival of funds 
from New York. 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 



Imray had achieved the impossible. With- 
out warning, for no conceivable motive, in his 
youth and at the threshold of his career he had 
chosen to disappear from yie world — which is 
to say, the little Indian station where he lived. 
Upon a day he was alive, well, happy, and in 
great evidence at his club, among the billiard- 
tables. Upon a morning he was not, and no 
manner of search could make sure where he 
might be. He had stepped out of his place ; 
he had not appeared at his office at the proper 
time, and his dog-cart was not upon the public 
roads. For these reasons and because he was 
hampering in a microscopical degree the ad- 
ministration of the Indian Empire, the Indian 
Empire paused for one microscopical moment 
to make inquiry into the fate of Imray. Ponds 
were dragged, wells were plumbed, telegrams 
were dispatched down the lines of railways and 
to the nearest seaport town — 1,200 miles away 
— but Imray was not at the end of the drag- 
ropes nor the telegrams. He was gone, and 
his place knew him no more. Then the work 
of the great Indian Empire swept forward, 
because it could not be delayed, and Imray, 
from being a man, became a mystery — such a 

190 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 191 

thing as men talk over at their tables in the 
club for a month and then forget utterly. His 
guns, horses, and carts were sold to the highest 
bidder. His superior officer wrote an absurd 
letter to his mother, saying that Imray had 
unaccountably disappeared and his bungalow 
stood empty on the road. 

AlFter three or four months of the scorching 
hot weather had gone by, my friend Strickland, 
of the police force, saw fit to rent the bunga- 
low from the native landlord. This was before 
he was engaged to Miss Youghai — an affair 
which has been described in another place — 
and while he was pursuing his investigations 
into native life. His own life was sufficiently 
peculiar, and men complained of his manners 
and customs. There was always food in his 
house, but there were no regular times for 
meals. He eat, standing up and walking 
about, whatever he might find on the side- 
board, and this is not good for the insides of 
human beings. His domestic equipment was 
limited to six rifles, three shot-guns, five 
saddles, and a collection of stiff-jointed 
masheer rods, bigger and stronger than the 
largest salmon rods. These things occupied 
one half of his bungalow, and the other half 
was given up to Strickland and his dog 
Tietjens — an enormous Rampour slut, who 
sung when she was ordered, and devoured 
daily the rations of two men. She spoke to 
Strickland in a language of her own, and 
whenever in her walks abroad she saw things 
calculated to destroy the peace of Her Majesty 



192 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

the Queen Empress, she returned to her 
master and gave him information. Strickland 
would take steps at once, and the end of his 
labors was trouble and fine and imprisonment 
for other people. The natives believed that 
Tietjens was a familiar spirit, and treated her 
with the great reverence that is born of hate 
and fear. One room in the bungalow was set 
apart for her special use. She owned a 
bedstead, a blanket, and a drinking-trough, 
and if any one came into Strickland's room at 
night, her custom was to knock down the 
invader and give tongue till some one came 
with a light. Strickland owes his life to her 
when he was on the frontier in search of the 
local murderer who came in the gray dawn to 
send Strickland much further than the Anda- 
man Islands, Tietjens caught him as he was 
crawling into Strickland's tent with a dagger 
between his teeth, and after his record of 
iniquity was established in the eyes of the law, 
he was hanged. From that date Tietjens wore 
a collar of rough silver and employed a mono- 
gram on her night blanket and the blanket 
was double- woven Kashmir cloth, for she was 
a delicate dog. 

Under no circumstances would she be sepa- 
rated from Strickland, and when he was ill with 
fever she made great trouble for the doctors 
because she did not know how to help her 
master and would not allow another creature 
to attempt aid. Macarnaght, of the Indian 
Medical Service, beat her over the head with a 
gun, before she could understand that she 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 193 

must give room for those who could give 
quinine. 

A short time after Strickland had taken 
Imray's bungalow, my business took me 
through that station, and naturally, the club 
quarters being full, I quartered myself upon 
Strickland. It was a desirable bungalow, 
eight-roomed, and heavily thatched against 
any chance of leakage from rain. "Under the 
pitch of the roof ran a ceiling cloth, which 
looked just as nice as a white-washed ceiling. 
The landlord had repainted when Strickland 
took the bungalow, and unless you knew how 
Indian bungalows were built you would never 
have suspected that above the cloth lay the 
dark, three-cornered cavarn of the roof, where 
the beams and the under side of the thatch 
harbored all manner of rats, bats, ants, and 
other things. 

Tietjens met me in the veranda with a bay 
like the boom of the bells of St. Paul's, and 
put her paws on my shoulders and said she 
was glad to see meo Strickland had contrived 
to put together that sort of meal which he 
called lunch, and immediately after it was fin- 
ished went out about his business. I was 
left alone with Tietjens and my own affairs. 
The heat of the summer had broken up and 
given place to the warm damp of the rains. 
There was no motion in the heated air, but the 
rain fell like bayonet rods on the earth, and 
flung up a blue mist where it splashed back 
again. The bamboos and the custard apples, 
the poinsettias the mango-trees in the 

13 Ditties 



194 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

garden stood still while the warm water lashed 
through them, and the frogs began to sing 
among the aloe hedges. A little before the 
light failed, and when the rain was at its 
worst, I sat on the back veranda and 
heard the water roar from the eaves, and 
scratched myself because I was covered with 
the thing they call prickly heat. Tietjens 
came out with me and put her head in my lap, 
and was very sorrowful, so I gave her biscuits 
when tea was ready, and I took tea in the back 
veranda on account of the little coolness I 
found there. The rooms of the house were 
dark behind me. I could smell Strickland's 
saddlery and the oil on his guns, and I did not 
the least desire to sit among thCvSe things. My 
own servant came to me in the twilight, the 
muslin of his clothes clinging tightly to his 
drenched body, and told me that a gentleman 
had called and wished to see some one. Very 
much against my will, and because of the dark- 
ness of the rooms, I went into the naked draw- 
ing-room, telling my man to bring the lights. 
There might or might not have been a caller in 
the room — it seems to me that I saw a figure 
by one of the windows, but when the lights 
came there was nothing save the spikes of the 
rain without and the smell of the drinking 
earth in my nostrils. I explained to my man 
that he was no wiser than he ought to be, and 
went back to the veranda to talk to Tietjens. 
She had gone out into the wet and I could 
hardly coax her back to me — even with biscuits 
with sugar on top. Strickland rode back. 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 195 

dripping wet, just before dinner, and the first 
thing he said was: 

"Has any one called?" 

I explained, with apologies, that my servant 
had called me into the drawing-room on a false 
alarm ; or that some loafer had tried to call on 
Strickland, and, thinking better of it, fled after 
giving his name. Strickland ordered dinner 
without comment and since it was a real din- 
ner, with white table-cloth attached, we sat 
down. 

At nine o'clock Strickland wanted to go to 
bed, and I was tired too. Tietjens, who had 
been lying underneath the table, rose up and 
went into the least-exposed veranda as soon as 
her master moved to his own room, which was 
next to the stately chamber set apart for Tiet- 
jens. If a mere wife had wished to sleep out- 
of-doors in that pelting rain, it would not have 
mattered, but Tietjens was a dog, and there- 
fore the better animal. I looked at Strickland, 
expecting to see him flog her with a whip. 
He smiled queerly, as a man would smile after 
telling some hideous domestic tragedy. "She 
has done this ever since I moved in here." 

The dog was Strickland's dog, so I said 
nothing, but I felt all that Strickland felt in 
being made light of. Tietjens encamped out- 
side my bedroom window, and storm after 
storm came up, thundered on the thatch, and 
died away. The lightning spattered the sky 
as a thrown egg spatters a barn door, but the 
light was pale blue, not yellow ; and looking 
through my slit bamboo blinds, I could see the 



196 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

great dog standing, not sleeping, in the veran- 
da, the hackles alift on her back, and her feet 
planted as tensely as the drawn wire rope of a 
suspension bridge. In the very short pauses 
of the thunder I tried to sleep, but it seemed 
that some one wanted me very badly. He, 
whoever he was, was trying to call me by 
name, but his voice was no more than a husky 
whisper. Then the thunder ceased and Tiet- 
jens went into the garden and howled at the 
low moon. Somebody tried to open my door, 
and walked about and through the house, and 
stood breathing heavily in the verandas, and 
just when I was falling asleep I fancied that I 
heard a wild hammering and clamoring above 
my head or on the door. 

I ran into Strickland's room and asked him 
whether he was ill and had been calling for me. 
He was lying on the bed half-dressed, with a 
pipe in his mouth. "I thought you'd come," 
he said. "Have I been walking around the 
house at all?" 

I explained that he had been in the dining- 
room and the smoking-room and two or three 
other places; and he laughed and told me to go 
back to bed. I went back to bed and slept till 
the morning, but in all my dreams I was sure 
I was doing some one an injustice in not attend- 
ing to his wants. What those wants were I 
could not tell, but a fluttering, whispering, 
bolt-fumbling, luring, loitering some one was 
reproaching me for my slackness, and through 
all the dreams I heard the howling of Tietjens 
in the garden and the thrashing of the rain. 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 197 

I was in that house for two days, and Strick- 
land went to his office daily, leaving me alone 
for eight or ten hours a day, with Tietjens for 
my only companion. As long as the full light 
lasted I was comfortable, and so was Tietjens; 
but in the twilight she and I moved into the 
back veranda and cuddled each other for com- 
pany. We were alone in the house, but for all 
that it was fully occupied by a tenant with 
whom I had no desire to interfere. I never 
saw him, but I could see the curtains between 
the rooms quivering where he had just passed 
through ; I could hear the chairs creaking as 
the bamboos sprung under a weight that had 
just quitted them; and I could feel when I 
went to get a book from the dining-room that 
somebody was waiting in the shadows of the 
front veranda till I should have gone away. 
Tietjens made the twilight more interesting by 
glaring into the darkened rooms, with every 
hair erect, and following the motions of some- 
thing that I could not see. She never entered 
the rooms, but her eyes moved, and that was 
quite sufficient. Only when my servant came 
to trim the lamps and make all light and habit- 
able, she would come in with me and spend 
her time sitting on her haunches watching an 
invisible extra man as he moved about behind 
my shoulder. Dogs are cheerful companions. 

I explained to Strickland, gently as might 
be, that I would go over to the club and find 
for myself quarters there. I admired his hos- 
pitality, was pleased with his guns and rods, 
but I did not much care for his house and its 



198 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

atmosphere. He heard me out to the end, 
and then smiled very wearily, but without con- 
tempt, for he is a man who understands things. 
**Stay on," he said, "and see what this thing 
means. All you have talked about I have 
known since I took the bungalow. Stay on 
and wait. Tietjens has left me. Are you 
going too?" 

I had seen him through one little affair con- 
nected with an idol that had brought me to the 
doors of a lunatic asylum, and I had no desire 
to help him through further experiences. He 
was a man to whom unpleasantnesses arrived 
as do dinners to ordinary people. 

Therefore I explained more clearly than ever 
that I liked him immensely, and would be 
happy to see him in the daytime, but that I 
didn't care to sleep under his roof. This was 
after dinner, when Tietjens had gone out to 
lie in the veranda. 

" 'Pon my soul, I don't wonder," said 
Strickland, with his eyes on the ceiling-cloth. 
*'Look at that!" 

The tails of two snakes were hanging 
between the cloth and the cornice of the wall. 
They threw long shadows in the lamp-light. 
**If you are afraid of snakes, of cburse — " said 
Strickland. "I hate and fear snakes, because 
if you look into the eyes of any snake you will 
see that it knows all and more of man's fall, 
and that it feels all the contempt that the devil 
felt when Adam was evicted from Eden. 
Besides which its bite is generally fatal, and it 
bursts up trouser legs." 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 199 

'* You ought to get your thatch overhauled, " 
I said. "Give me a masheer rod, and we'll 
poke 'em down. " 

^'They'll hide among the roof beams," said 
Strickland. "I can't stand snakes overhead. 
I'm going up. If I shake 'em down, stand 
by -with the cleaning-rod and break their 
backs." 

I was not anxious to assist Strickland in his 
work, but I took the loading-rod and waited in 
the dining-room, while Strickland brought a 
gardener's ladder from the veranda and set it 
against the side of the room. The snake tails 
drew themselves up and disappeared. We 
could hear the dry rushing scuttle of long 
bodies running over the baggy cloth. Strick- 
land took a lamp with him, while I tried to 
make clear the danger of hunting roof snakes 
between a ceiling-cloth and a thatch, apart 
from the deterioration of property caused by 
ripping out ceiling-cloths. 

*' Nonsense!" said Strickland. *' They're 
sure to hide near the walls by the cloth. The 
bricks are too cold for *em, and the heat of the 
room is just what they like. " He put his hand 
to the corner of the cloth and ripped the rotten 
stuff from the cornice. It gave a great sound 
of tearing, and Strickland put his head through 
the opening into the dark of the angle of the 
roof beams. I set my teeth and lifted the 
loading-rod, for I had not the least knowledge 
of what might descend. 

' ' H 'm, • ' said Strickland ; and his voice rolled 
and rumbled in the roof. '* There's room for 



200 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

another set of rooms up here, and, by Jove! 
some one is occupying 'em." 

*' Snakes?" I said down below. 

**No. It's a buffalo. Hand me up the two 
first joints of a masheer rod, and I'll prod it. 
It's lying on the main beam." 

I handed up the rod. 

*'What a nest for owls and serpents! No 
wonder the snakes live here," said Strickland, 
climbing further into the roof. I could see 
his elbow thrusting with the rod. *'Come out 
of that, whoever you are! Look out! Heads 
below there ! It's tottering. ' ' 

I saw the ceiling-cloth nearly in the center 
of the room bag with a shape that was pressing 
it downward and downward toward the lighted 
lamps on the table. I snatched a lamp out of 
danger and stood back. Then the cloth ripped 
out from the walls, tore, split, swayed, and 
shot down upon the table something that I 
dared not look at till Strickland had slid down 
the ladder and was standing by my side. 

He did not say much, being a man of few 
words, but he picked up the loose end of the 
table-cloth and threw it over the thing on the 
table. 

'* It strikes me," said he, pulling down the 
lamp, "our friend Imray has come back. Oh! 
you would, would you?" 

There was a movement under the cloth, and 
a little snake wriggled out, to be back-broken 
by the butt of the masheer rod. I was suffici- 
ently sick to make no remarks worth recording. 

Strickland meditated and helped himself to 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 201 

drinks liberally. The thing under the cloth 
made no more signs of life. 

**Is it Imray?" I said. 

Strickland turned back the cloth for a 
moment and looked. ** It is Imray, " he said, 
**and his throat is cut from ear to ear. " 

Then we both spoke together and to ourselves: 
*'Tliat's why he whispered about the house. " 

Tietjens, in the garden, began to bay 
furiously. A little later her great nose heaved 
upon the dining-room door. 

She sniffed and was still. The broken and 
tattered ceiling-cloth hung down almost to the 
level of the table, and there was hardly room 
to move away from the discovery. 

Then Tietjens came in and sat down, her 
teeth bared and her forepaws planted. She 
looked at Strickland. 

*'It's bad business, old lady," said he. 
"Men don't go up into the roofs of their bunga- 
lows to die, and they don't fasten up the ceil- 
ing-cloth behind 'em. Let's think it out." 

"Let's think it out somewhere else," I said. 

"Excellent idea! Turn the lamps out. We'll 
get into my room. " 

I did not turn the lamps out. I went into 
Strickland's room first and allowed him to 
make the darkness. Then he followed me, 
and we lighted tobacco and thought. Strick- 
land did the thinking. I smoked furiously 
because I was afraid. 

"Imray is back," said Strickland. "The 
question is, who killed Imray? Don't talk — I 
have a notion of my own. When I took this 

14 



202 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

bungalow I took most of Imray's servants. 
Imray was guileless and inoffensive, wasn't 
he?" 

I agreed, though the heap under the cloth 
looked neither one thing nor the other. 

"If I call the servants they will stand fast in 
a crowd and lie like Aryans. What do you sug- 
gest?" 

**Call 'em in one by one," I said. 

"They'll run away and give the news to all 
their fellows," said Strickland. 

"We must segregate 'em. Do you suppose 
your servant knows anything about it?" 

"He may, for aught I know, but I don't 
think it's likely. He has only been here two 
or three days." 

"What's your notion?" I asked. 

"I can't quite tell. How the dickens did the 
man get the wrong side of the ceiling-cloth?" 

There was a heavy coughing outside Strick- 
land's bedroom door. This showed that 
Bahadur Khan, his body-servant, had waked 
from sleep and wished to put Strickland to 
bed. 

"Come in," said Strickland. "It is a very 
warm night, isn't it?" 

Bahadur Khan, a great, green-turbaned, six- 
foot Mohammedan, said that it was a very 
warm night, but that there was more rain 
pending, which, by his honor's favor, would 
bring relief to the country. 

"It will be so, if God pleases," said Strick- 
land, tugging off his boots. "It is in my mind, 
Bahadur Khan, that I have worked thee 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 203, 

remorselessly for many days — ever since that 
time when thou first camest into my service. 
What time was that?" 

**Has the heaven-born forgotten? It was 
when Imray Sahib went secretly to Europe 
without warning given, and I — even I — came 
into the honored service of the protector of the 
poor. ' ' 

"And Imray Sahib went to Europe?" 

'*It is so said among the servants. " 

*'And thou wilt take service with him when 
he returns?" 

"Assuredly, sahib. He was a good master 
and cherished his dependents." 

"That is true. I am very tired, but I can 
go buck- shooting to-morrow. Give me the 
little rifle that I used for black buck ; it is in 
the case yonder. ' ' 

The man stooped over the case, handed 
barrels, stock, and fore-end to Strickland, who 
fitted them together. Yawning dolefully, then 
he reached down to the gun-case, took a solid 
drawn cartridge, and slipped it into the breech 
of the . 360 express. 

"And Imray Sahib has gone to Europe 
secretly? That is very strange, Bahadur Khan, 
is it not?" 

"What do I know of the ways of the white 
man, heaven-born?" 

"Very little, truly. But thou shalt know 
more. It has reached me that Imray Sahib 
has returned from his so long journeyings, and 
that even now he lies in the next room, waiting 
his servant." 



204 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. • 

"Sahib!" 

The lamp-light slid along the babels of the 
rifle as they leveled themselves against 
Bahadur Khan's broad breast. 

"Go, then, and look!" said Strickland. 
"Take a lamp. Thy master is tired, and he 
waits. Go!" 

The man picked up a lamp and went into 
the dining-room, Strickland following, and 
almost pushing him with the muzzle of the 
rifle. He looked for a moment at the black 
depths behind the ceiling-cloth, at the carcass 
of the mangled snake under foot, and last, a 
gray glaze setting on his face, at the thing 
under the table-cloth. 

"Hast thou seen?" said Strickland, after a 
pause. 

"I have seen. I am clay in the white man's 
hands. What does the presence do?" 

"Hang thee within a month! What else?" 

"For killing him? Nay, sahib, consider. 
Walking among us, his servants, he cast his 
eyes upon my child, who was four years old. 
Him he bewitched, and in ten days he died of 
the fever. My child!" 

"What said Imray Sahib?" 

''He said he was a handsome child, and 
patted him on the head; wherefore my child 
died. Wherefore I killed Imray Sahib in the 
twilight, when he came back from office and 
was sleeping. The heaven-born knows all 
things. I am the servant of the heaven- 
born." 

Strickland looked at me above the rifle, and 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 205 

said, in the vernacular: "Thou art witness to 
this saying. He has killed. " 

Bahadur Khan stood ashen gray in the light 
of the one lamp. The need for justification 
came upon him very swiftly. 

"I am trapped," he said, "but the offense 
was that man's. He cast an evil eye upon my 
' chrild, and I killed and hid him. Only such as 
are served by devils," he glared at Tietjens, 
crouched stolidly before him, "only such 
could know what I did. " 

"It was clever. But thou shouldst have 
lashed him to the beam with a rope. Now, 
thou thyself wilt hang by a rope. Orderly!" 

A drowsy policeman answered Strickland's 
call. He was followed by another, and Tiet- 
jens sat still. 

"Take him to the station," said Strickland. 
"There is a case toward." 

"Do I hangf, then?" said Bahadur Khan, 
making no attempt to escape and keeping his 
eyes on the ground. 

"If the sun shines, or the water runs, thou 
wilt hang," said Strickland. Bahadur Khan 
stepped back one pace, quivered, and stood 
still. The two policemen waited further orders. 

"Go!" said Strickland. 

"Nay; but I go very swiftly," said Bahadur 
Khan. "Look! I am even now dead a man." 

He lifted his foot, and to the little toe there 
clung the head of the half-killed snake, firm 
fixed in the agony of death. 

"I come of land-holding stock," said Baha- 
dur Khan, rocking where he stood. "It were 



206 THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 

a disgrace for me to go to the public scaffold, 
therefore I take this way. Be it remembered 
that the sahib's shirts are correctly enumerated, 
and that there is an extra piece of soap in his 
wash-basin. My child was bewitched, and I 
slew the wizard. Why should you seek to slay 
me? My honor is saved, and — and — I die." 

At the end of an hour he died as they die 
who are bitten by the little kariat, and the 
policemen bore him and the thing under the 
table-cloth to their appointed places. They 
were needed to make clear the disappearance 
of Imray. 

"This," said Strickland, very calmly, as he 
climbed into bed, "is called the nineteenth 
century. Did you hear what that man said?" 

"I heard," I answered. "Imray made a 
mistake." 

"Simply and solely through not knowing the 
nature and coincidence of a little seasonal fever. 
Bahadur Khan has been with him for four 
years." 

I shuddered. My own servant had been 
with me for exactly that length of time. 
When I went over to my own room I found him 
waiting, impassive as the copper head on a 
penny, to pull off my boots. 

"What has befallen Bahadur Khan?" said I. 

"He was bitten by a snake and died; the 
rest the sahib knows," was the answer. 

"And how much of the matter hast thou 
known?" 

"As much as might be gathered from one 
coming in the twilight to seek satisfaction. 



THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY. 207 

Gently, sahib. Let me pull off those 

boots." 

I had just settled to the sleep of exhaustion 

when I heard Strickland shouting from his side 

of the house : 

*'Tietjens has come back to her room!" 
And so she had. The great deerhound was 

coucTied on her own bedstead, on her own 

blanket, and in the next room the idle, empty 

ceiling-cloth wagged light-heartedly as it 

flailed on the table. 



THE END. 



W. B. GONKEY COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS 



1. Abbe Constantin Halevy 

2. Adventures of a Brownie. ..Mulock 

8. All Aboard Optic 

4. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland 

Carroll 

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6. Autobiography of Benjamin 

Franklin 

7. Autocrat of the Breakfast Table 

Holmes 

11. Bacon's Essays Bacon 

12. Barrack Room Ballads.. .Kipling 

13. Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush 
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14. Black Beauty Sewall 

15. Blithedale Romance. .Hawthorne 

16. Boat Club Optic 

17. Bracebridge Hal 1 Irving 

18. Brooks' Addresses 

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24. Ohilde Harold's Pilgrimage 
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Dickons 

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27. Crown of Wild Olives Ruskin 

80. Daily Food for Christians 

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49. Heroes and Hero Worship, Carlyle 

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51. House of Seven Gables 

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57. Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow 
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67. Kept for the Master's Use 

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69. King of the Golden River.. Ruskin 

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111. Representative Men. .Emerson 

112. Reveries of a Bachelor 

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116. Rollo in Naples Abbott 

117. Rollo in Paris Abbott 

118. Rollo in Rome Abbott 

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120. Rollo in Swit2serl and... Abbott 

121. Rollo on the Atlantic. .Abbott 

122. Rollo on the Rhine Abbott 

128. Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 

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128. Sartor Resartus Carlyle 

129. Scarlet Letter Hawthorne 

130 Sesame and Lilies Ruskin 

131. Sign of the Four Doyle 

132. Sketch Book Irving 

133. Stickit Minister Crockett 

140. Tales from Shakespeare 

C. and Mary Lamb 

141. Tanglewood Tales.. Hawthorne 

142. True and Beautiful Ruskin 

143. Three Men in a Boat. .Jerome 

144. Through the Looking Glass 

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145. Treasure Island Stevenson 

146. Twice Told Tales. .Hawthorne 

150. Uncle Tom's Cabin Stowe 

154. Vicar of Wakefield.. Goldsmith 

158. Whittier's Poems Whittier 

159. Wide, Wide World ... .Warner 

160. Window in Thrums Barrie 

161. Wonder Book Hawthorne 



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